Good Talking and an Arguement

Sometimes I wish I could talk more.

Seriously.

This sounds odd for those who know me (my mouth hardly ever stops moving). Allow me to explain.

There are multiple ways of talking.

Talking for the fun of it: Some would call this wit or friendly banter.

Talking for dialectic: The pursuit of Truth through words.

Talking for emptiness: Words to fill the gaps in our lives.

Talking for instruction: "Let him who has ears to hear, hear this"

And then there's

Talking for communication:

This last one, I rarely (if ever) get to do. I think we've all known those times. The worries and cares of life seem to melt into the background and you are brought (drawn perhaps?) into the presence of another Soul. Where even the words seem to be just barely necessary. And I don't mean those awkward silences where the need to say something seems to overpower the importance of anything said. No, I mean the times when "lifetimes burn in a moment" and even the silences between our words have a life to them. How much more would we love people if we could only communicate with them? When the veils of flesh and speech seem all but transparent, ah, there lies an aspect of Beauty. How much more humble we would be if we could but glimpse the glory of another soul created in God's Image?

But today's a Wednesday, life rushes on like a steady stream. Of course, this communication is entirely possible through the dialectic but I find these moments only come when you don't look for them. When everyone in the house is asleep and we two can stare into the dark and the universe is opened. Or on a long drive back from nowhere and the headlamps of a distant car are all that disturbs the moonlit land scape. Miles upon miles of pregnant silence. Solitude embued with deepest knowledge.

"That was a way of putting it - not very satisfactory:
A periphrastic study in a worn-out poetical fashion,
Leaving one still with the intolerable wrestle
With words and meanings..."

So, I wish I could talk more. But (oh, oh) how? Ironically, you can't even seek it.

"Where then, are we to go now?
Why, forward of course.
But which way is up?"

"I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without Love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstacy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

You say I am repeating
Something I have said before. I shall say it again.
Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstacy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not."

From Ash Wednesday:

"I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce that blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice
And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And I pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us."

I think it's safe to say that I like Eliot. ;)

"For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business"
...Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment...
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men ought to be explorers
Here and there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and empty desolation
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning."

"Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God...to a virgin...and the virgin's name was Mary. And coming in, he said to her, 'Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.'
But she was very perplexed at this statement, and kept pondering what kind of salutation this was. The angel said to her, 'Do not be afraid, Mary; for you have found favor with God.'
'And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name Him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David; and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and His kingdom will have no end...For nothing wil be impossible with God.' And Mary said, 'Behold, the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word.' And the angel departed from her."

Can someone please tell me why I just quoted all of that?!
I am so, so weird...=P