Flowers remind us
Life is short and death is swift
Nature is your guide
by Abigail Taylor
Upon recent self exploration, I find that my written and spoken reactions to change, pain, surprise and even great happiness are ones of brevity. Those who know me well wouldn’t be surprised that one my favorite quotes is from a Shakespeare play: “Brevity is the soul of wit.” Though the line, spoken by Polonius in Hamlet, is pertaining to brevity used in a comedic way, I often believe that for me brevity is the soul of my speech. I tend not to spend breath (or typed words) until I am deeply moved to use them. This has at least been a practice of mine the last few years; I’ve been guilty of trying to fill awkward silences with pointless words and small talk in the past. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, but I did it out of a compulsive need for noise, or to be perceived as interesting and intelligent. I’d feel uncomfortable if I wasn’t saying anything important. But I’ve gradually come to accept who I am and what I want to say. And so I’ve naturally begun to write more often in the form of the Haiku.
My written thoughts on the country’s current state of affairs have been incredibly brief; I’m embarrassed, concerned, disappointed and disturbed by the actions of the few that govern the many. Yet the words I am able to utter are those of both grave warning and deep hope, in a package that can be written and read in a matter of seconds. This so-called self exploration I’ve done has helped me realize another thing. Everyone I know and love seems to have a little place of their own in the fight against ignorance and backwards thinking. Some have many important words to speak, some have jokes to make light of it all for the rest of us, some have the means to spark discussion, and some speak best silently, in physical actions and expressions. I have three lines: five syllables, seven, then five.
What is your voice?
© Abigail Taylor, 2017.