People Person

Artists and writers often seek to be alone, in order to work, and to quiet the voices in their heads, and to find that essential silence, without which it can be exceedingly difficult to create anything with meaning.

Journalists, traditionally, are different. We grew used to working in the midst of the chaos typical of newsrooms. Thus, for most of my adult life, I have been able to get my work done regardless of how many people happen to be around me, asking questions, interrupting my train of thought, needing attention.

Truth is, I like it like that.

But it's also a blessing when I find myself alone here, in a flat that sometimes seems to be a replica of Grand Central Station. At first, when nobody at all is around, the silence is deafening.

Soon, however, the music begins.




It's not a music emanating from a radio, or a sound system, or my computer, which contains around 100 of my favorite YouTube performances.

It's the softer music of a tiny bird perched for a moment in my apple tree, or the sweet cadence of a neighbor talking on her cellphone. It might be a cat howling his mating call, or some Latino roofers joking as they repair storm damage next door.

Sometimes, it's the silent music of plum blossoms coating our sidewalks with pink petals dropped to point the way.

On rainy nights, like tonight, even passing cars make music, as their tires kick up moisture from the street.

There is a clock ticking somewhere.

At moments like this, I am able to write unhindered by distractions. But if this were the only life I knew, I'd soon become bored. Therefore, the optimal mix is silences broken by social times.

Luckily, there are so many people in my life, socializing is never much of a problem. I do love people, and everyone interests me in some way. The mix of silence (writing, painting, imagining) and togetherness (work, teaching, meetings, parties, hugging, talking, sharing) makes being alive fun for me.

What about you?

p.s. I am indebted to Junko for the topic of this post.

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