sabato, giugno 24, 2006

SILENCE IS TRULY DIFFICULT for me to master. People often joke about “awkward silence” in conversations, because very few people are actually comfortable with silence. I’ve wondered for quite some time why it is people have a difficult time just being silent. And is it all people, or is it part of our American culture?
      Quite frankly I’ve never really worried too much about it—having been told I was born with the “gift of the gab”—talking a lot is just part of who I am.
      But today I finally saw just how rewarding silence can be. After a tour of Gubbio, I was totally content. The medieval town is full of history and masterfully crafted art. As we trekked through the steep Gubbio streets and through the woods, I fell in love with the town. Finally, after several hours of uphill walking, we came to a manicured garden and mountaintop caffe’. From there, we looked out over the entire town of Gubbio, and perhaps even beyond. The Italian landscape stretched out before me, and I had to catch my breath as I took it all in. I happily ate my creamsicle pop and snapped pictures with friends so I could somehow capture the view for years to come.
      I felt as if not a single moment of this trip had been lost on me. And I was both happy and proud of my successful day.
      As always, my feeling of self-fulfillment was quickly interrupted. As we walked back through Gubbio, we stopped at the statue of Sant’Ubaldo.
      The story goes, if you put your finger through the ring on the front of the statue and make a wish, and then are able to walk all the way down the main strip in silence, your wish will come true.
      Well, being the superstitious person I am, I couldn’t give up the chance to make a wish. So I walked right up to the statue and looped my pointer finger tightly around that metal hole. I stared up at the white marble saint who stared down at me and concentrated on my wish.
      As I slowly turned and headed down the street, I couldn’t help but feel awkward at first. People crowded the streets, laughing and shouting, while I walked beside my friend in a silence I was deafeningly aware of.
      But the further I walk, the easier it gets. I notice shops I had not before. I watch as a group of young girls stare in a window at an expensive dress. An older couple walks slowly and discreetly down the side of the road. I decide to imagine they’ve been together since they were young, and after all these years they are still happy together.
      I don’t even notice at first that I have reached the end of the street. It’s the concrete wall where the road comes to a ‘t’ intersection staring into my face that eventually makes me stop. A part of me wishes I had further to walk.
      I am shocked to find the silence enjoyable. I don’t really think the point of the walk is to make a wish, but to take in everything around. Even when you think you’re taking everything in about a time or a place, it’s easy to let details slip away. I finally realize that the point of silence (and probably reflective journaling) is to take time to reflect on and capture what is happening all around you. Our lives are made of individual moments, and if you aren’t careful, some of the most important ones may slip away unnoticed.
--Allison James
(Loyola)

1 commento:

Donna Lynne ha detto...

bello!
d.