Life often whispers, in the quiet hours, that somehow we ought to do better – that though we have loved, we have not loved fiercely, that though at times we have struggled and fought, so often have we settled for mediocrity and the mundane. That’s why I love the melancholy of quiet hours. I love being reminded, as the breeze gently blows beneath the starry skies, that life was always meant to be lived to the full. There are many threads of this throughout classic poetry. One of my favorites is the simple poem by Langston Hughes:
“Sometimes when I’m lonely,
don’t know why
Keep thinking I won’t be lonely
by and by.”
The melancholy of the quiet hours comes as a whisper that convicts the heart of all the cheap and simple things we have spent the wages of our lives upon. Most of us don’t like thinking about such notions, dismissing them as idealistic fancy. But I cannot dismiss it. And why? Because the time is short. Life lasts for only a little while, and then is gone.
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
old time is still a’ flying
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will by dying.”
Robert Herrick
Language is a poor tool of communication compared with the melancholy of quiet hours. There is more to say–things which speak to the tale of our lives and the stirrings of our hearts–which cannot be expressed in words. To sit alone in a quiet park at night speaks volumes more than anything words can say. To stare up silently at the stars and let the night fill up and invigorate my spirit–by that action I proclaim I too can see the beauty and mystery in the world; I too can feel the presence of that grand and mystic scheme intertwining all of man; I too have felt the subtle tug of destiny rouse the spirit asleep within me.
Those feelings and passions are what draw me toward all the lonely places of the world and testify to who I truly am in ways that words can never proclaim. We speak of what we know and count what we don’t understand as unimportant. But that which we do not understand could very well be the most important thing about us. If you wish to speak to me of things truly important in life, come and find me on a lonely cliff, wander awhile in the places where roads end. And though we may not speak, we will learn much of one another. Until then, I will continue to speak as a man content to watch the stars.
8 Comments
Champion! I love it! So perfectly said – I wish I had written it.
How often I have come to the end of my words, however insightful or clever I thought I should have been before thereby – only to find that the deepest meaning may reside between two people in the experience of quietude.. merely being together, one in thought and spirit; such blissful moments I would never trade for ten-thousand words.
Howdy! Right on. Beautifully said yourself, my good friend. Speaking of which, when are we going to get the chance to share the quietude of melancholy at the park again? Thanks very much for finding this and commenting!
Hm.. tonight, mayhap?
Very soon, I hope! I’ll bring my brandy, as I’ve sadly run out of wine.
And you’re very welcome – truly my pleasure!
great photos, lithographs, interesting topic. I wonder if the root word in melancholy comes from a dark mood, like melanin is a skin pigment. It was hot here today under the sun, sweating, and the shade of trees was welcome. Like CS Lewis learned from one of his students in the movie “Shadowland”, we read to know we are not alone. Enjoyed reading your thoughts.
Thanks! That’s an interesting question about the root of melancholy. I bet you’re right. Yeah Shadowland was an awesome movie. That’s a really good quote.
Hmm. Is it true?
Hi Benji! I love that. There is something so beautiful about just being. I also love shadowlands and that quote. I used to have a book bag when I was a kid, that I would drag everywhere and read. I spent a lot of time alone as a child and ponder things. I love when you see people in a new way and know it’ll never be the same. I love when you care so much for people that you feel saddened when people say their name but it just isn’t right or doesn’t have the right ring to it. I’ve always daydreamed that I was this great artist and I could draw pictures of my friends and get the essence of them in it, not like a photo but the way you see them through your eyes. Its funny my best friend swears she has this horrible skin and that highschool was the worst, but I have always seen her as beautiful, I look back at old pics and I see how I would be frustrated if it was me. Yet to me I don’t even notice it. She just is beauty. Anyway thanks for writing blogs that draw me to think, or agree or just a beautiful reminiscing on people I love and reminicant memories of unexplainable thoughts feelings and memories where words fail. Blessings my friend.