More than Words

Pre-verbal meditations.

rippling seawater reflecting pink evening sky

Before we thought we had any, there was no need for reminders back to what language occludes. We knew our names were clumsy, we felt the thud of them against surfaces and the weight of words blundering around us, knocking so much over in the effort to reach their objects, trampling entire worlds underfoot. We felt the cascading fall of us, trying to arrive, claiming at once home and this home is not mine. Disarmed, disobedient, dislocated, we could not saw what we were, and this was our best chance. The world was dizzy, and we met it on these terms, calling come out come out to one another, wherever you are.

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

5 thoughts on “More than Words”

  1. Like all of your writing I’ve read so far, this strikes a kindred note. This piece brought immediately to mind, David Abram’s book, “The Spell of the Sensuous”. Have you read it? As a writer and also someone who practices stillness and meditation, there’s a balance between words and silences that is not always easily found. I suppose that’s why I appreciate haiku.

    1. Chris, thank you for this. I have not read Abram’s book, and now I look forward to doing just that. It’s rejuvenating to find a kindred sensibility : )

  2. Is your use of saw toward the end intended to trip the reader over past tense of “to see?” It’s disruptive for sure! Feels like you’re circling something really big here Stacey, I love it. The existential kind of conflict and awkwardness between words and identity. I think of the word occlusion in dental contexts, and like how you used it here too. Curious about the ‘saw’ though, is it a carpenter’s saw? A cleaving off or some such?

    1. Lol, thank you Bill! I am laughing because while my conscious self is able to recognize this as a typo (too early, long week, not enough coffee), this other (not quite self) lens (the place I’m increasingly trying to write from) recognizes this as a bad-ass stroke of (unconscious) punk genius (again, not mine) I may have missed entirely if you hadn’t pointed it out. This confirms my suspicion that this writer is much more enlightened than I am. Keeping it with delighted amazement. And I’m enjoying the opportunities for a variety of meanings with this saw. Thanks, friend!

      1. Sounds like quite the see-saw as it were! Ha ha. Bad-ass stroke of punk genius always welcome kind of stroke for sure

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