Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal
The way you dream, the things you feel.
Deep in your spirit let them rise
akin to stars in crystal skies
that set before the night is blurred:
delight in them and speak no word
How can a heart expression find?
How should another know your mind?
Will he discern what quickens you?
A thought once is untrue.
Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred:
drink at the source and speak no word.
Live in your inner self alone
within your soul a world has grown,
the magic of veiled thoughts that might
be blinded by the outer light,
drowned in the noise of day, unheard …
take in their song and speak no word.
- Fyodor Tyutchev, translated by Vladimir Nabokov
Silence is so accurate.
It’s the Saturday after New Years Day in Chicago, Illinois. The first thing I thought when I stepped outside to go for a walk and grab a cup of coffee: it’s so quiet out.
A conversation about winter almost always settles first on how you feel about the cold and then how you feel about the snow. However, I love winter for two reasons outside of those parameters. The quiet stillness outside gives me creative headspace. A time for my ears, which work 24 hours a day, 365 days out of the year, to relax. Secondly, the smell of crisp, clean air. The smells that float to the nose under winter conditions are absolute and un-compromised. These are experiences you simply can’t have anywhere else.
photo credit: Carey Primeau