And once you pull out the phone to call

"I don't have time, I don't have time" – this phrase today is heard and pronounced more often than "Hello". A kind of cultural code, the access password. If you're not in a hurry, so something with your life. You anywhere especially do not wait, no you do not need much. Or need, but not much – by and large, will cope without you.


I can feel it in the subway at rush hour, when we all with serious faces in a hurry for minor cases it is often even less meaningful to us. "Stop, go, no time to explain". And at this moment the large red numbers on the scoreboard take you another piece of life without the right of return.

At some point I realized that the answer is “no, unfortunately, I can't – there's no time” on the offer to meet, smoke or have children – it is not a question of time and priorities. My own and others. We're old enough to choose what to put on the scales today. Because whenever I say Yes, I know in advance how many “no” it will cost me. Including “no,” said to herself.

Two things we still don't know how to do: to remain silent and finish. The silence somehow always turns out too loud, almost deliberate, and the ends of the bloom thread, and invisible forces great and small coincidences weave them skillful macramé.

In school we were taught to speak with a sense and really work on not raising his voice, with strangers, politely. How we communicate with ourselves, not teach anybody – hence bezremontnoy internal monologues. An endless stream of chatter, then shout, then whisper: it's white, it's low, it's hot, and at the end of a sweeping mental signature "go sing".

Learn to be quiet inside yourself so hard as to begin to notice the breath: I inhale here and exhale. Pause. The air that a moment ago was inside you, continues the life of me.

Alexander Lowen, famous for his studies on the body-oriented psychotherapy, says that man, whose breath is shallow and superficial, so cautious and distrustful towards the world that even the air tries to take him faintly, almost secretly.

The practice of silence as a practice of humility with the inevitable, it was better than sex, and much stronger than psychoanalysis, vodka or chemical sedatives, because when the effect ends, you again force throws in there, where the stars of the milky way with cold milk flow down the walls of heaven. Because in a city like this nobody needs your comments, thoughts, notes in the margins, the underlined line and eyeliner. And most importantly, in a city like this sooner or later everyone comes to understand this. And then one day you get a phone to call: from this point on, if the translator's note, in you more that you leave for yourself.


A few years ago I had two weeks to live alone in Romania. Sleeping alone, eating alone, to hurt one's eyes stare at the wrinkles of the sea. The sea was blue. On the fifth day on the beach has found a beached Dolphin. On the eighth ran out of money. And by the tenth day I started reading Miller aloud, so as not to become deaf from the silence.

When I got home, I had to get used to the sound of the saturation space – pristine fabric of the soul, sanctified by the silence and bleached southern sun, covered with stains on the eyes. But I was silent long enough for the unspoken ripe broke the tight thin skin, scattered thoughts. Sticky watermelon juice running down my hands.


I repeat to myself like a mantra: shut up if what you say will improve the silence, don't call if you don't know what to say; don't write if each letter is given with such work that numb fingers.

May I repeat it for you.

"...and it would seem that we know swimming, I, too, revelation.
Yes, just did not learn how to muddle,
"remember not to forget":
never go with a man "you", if you're not going
to sing with him
to drink with him,
to cry with him
or to sleep." published

Author: Olga Primachenko P. S. And remember, just changing your mind - together we change the world! © Join us at Facebook , Vkontakte, Odnoklassniki



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