The 4th Humour
uninfluential words from an uninfluenced man
Bile humour Apathetic hemetic Fluent indifferent Emetic Phlegmatic

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Sunday, December 01, 2002

One thing I never hear is silence. Oh, you can capture it in certain ways, but each is mistaken. We confuse silence with stillness. We enjoy a "quiet" night on the porch. The chirping of crickets and the passing of cars may be peaceful, but not silent. Earplugs don't work. They may keep the outside world at bay, but they amplify your inner turmoil. Every swallow, every heartbeat, every breath brings with it a realization that we can never escape into ourselves. I can hear my spine move, making me more aware of its motion, its pain. The music in my mind, ever-present, intruding on that little man in my head, my inner voice, always thinking--loudly--or rehearsing what I'm reading. It never ends. To eliminate it would eliminate the very comprehension--the realization--of silence if it were ever attained. For when it is appreciated, it is gone.

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