Ni hao ma?
That’s Mandarin for “S’up?”. (Okay, it’s actually Mandarin for “How are you?”, but hey, close enough for jazz.)
Moving on . . .
I value quiet as I value few other things. (Notice I use as and not like? There’s a difference. Check out Grammar Girl sometime. She’s a hoot.)
Where the hell was I?
Oh . . . yeah . . .
I like this article.
I can be still and silent with my own thoughts and have a marvelously delightful time. (I know what you’re thinking, and damn your eyes. I had a therapist once make me promise to stop trying to be normal, so there!)
When I was riding my bike every day, I really enjoyed the sounds that filtered down from the trees and the quiet whoosh of air. There were a couple of times when neighbors thought I wanted a bike buddy, then pulled in next to me and started to chat me up. After dropping a hint or two, (by jamming a steel rod between the spokes of their front wheel), that I wasn’t in the mood to be up-chatted, I managed to change their perspective, not to mention their venue.
And can you believe it, I actually sometimes turn off the radio in my car and just think as I drive. Wonderful stuff, that.
There’s something very special about silence that can’t be found most places these days: It’s silent. Y’know, quiet? Lacking noise?
Kinda’ like a really good friend, or a generous billionaire with a bad memory . . . damn hard to find, and when you do finally trip over one, you keep track.
Thus, I wholeheartedly relate to Mr. Kreider’s plight. Quietude.
Don’t leave home without it.
