True misery doesn’t love company.
It decays the soul in silence.
When someone is complaining, it’s because they still have hope that someone cares enough to listen or respond.
Or even to empathise.
When they give up on these three things, they go silent because they have grown to accept that no one else cares, or understands the state that they’re in.
Too often we see their silence and assume it to be acceptance of their struggles or challenges, meanwhile it often symbolises the slow death of dreams, hopes, and ultimately, a life.
Silence is the silent killer, more than rage.
Listen with both ears and your heart.
Pay attention to the silent ones.
Your noise of ingratitude may just be drowning out their silence of pain.
Find the balance between living loud and loving sincerely.
The one without the other will smother people closest to you.
#silence #death #depression #hope #dignity #dreams #fears #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealthrecovery #selfworth #selflove #selfawareness #selfrespect #reflection #mindfulness #validation #affection #affirmation #egosystem #gratitude
Tag: silence
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The silent ones
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Silent Protest
A protest that cannot be articulated, is a protest spawned by futility, to feed futility.
My contempt for what I am presented with is rarely expressed plainly. My reservations to express at all is grounded in years of ridicule and dismissal around issues I have held with great conviction. Experience is a bitter pill, whether swallowed or not. Each cycle of decay results in a shortening of the fuse that prompts us into action. I believe that our response at break point is chosen long before we reach that point. It’s not something that happens instinctively. Instead, it has been internalised for so long that when we do reach that tipping point, no contemplation or deliberation is needed. The response is not intended to be measured. It is intended to finally release the silent protest that we chose not to express outwardly for reasons that suddenly fade from significance.
Silent protests are born when our pleas for sanity or reason go unanswered in a setting that we feel compelled to embrace. It’s a cry for recognition of who we are and what we need that has fallen on inattentive ears, or calloused hearts, leaving us bound to the commitments we once made, while resisting the urge to respond in kind lest we be reduced to the same stature of that which we have grown to despise. But the contempt is not easily expressed. The contempt is reined in to ensure that the commitment remains the priority. After all, in the absence of the commitment, no such claim of aloofness would be credible.
So the silent protest plays out, often for years, and assumes a sub-conscious frame of reference that we rarely realise exists. The weightiness sets in, the lethargy overwhelms, the fatigue smothers, and the passion withers. Life ceases to be life at this point. Instead, it steps aside to allow existence to take over. Existence, then, becomes the final protest. It protests the onset of death, denies the potential of life, and secretly yearns for both.
Breathe. Exhale. Remind yourself why the silent protest started, if indeed you are able to remember, and decide if it is still worth the commitment you are trying to honour. If you can’t remember, then remind yourself about where your passion once flared, and use that as a point to return to in order to retrace your steps to the point where you lost your voice.
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The silent lie
Dishonesty isn’t always a lie. It’s often an unspoken truth. In fact, unspoken truths are probably the source of more dishonesty than outright lies.
We remain silent when we feel threatened by the revelation of the truth.
That threat is not always about exposure of who we are. Sometimes, it’s because we don’t want to bear the responsibility of meeting the expectations that are raised if we spoke out.
Like speaking out in defence of the truth, or vouching for someone’s character, or giving due credit. It all demands that we follow through with sincerity and consistency.
This is most often the reason why we choose to be dishonest and remain silent, instead of speaking out and accepting the responsibility of the consequences. -
The Silent Statement
My thoughts are often as complicated to grasp as my writing is to read. I sometimes read through some of my older posts and wonder how anyone could have gotten the point when I struggle to follow the thought process myself. I used to relate it all much more simplistically in the past. It was relatable, not just to me, but to others that it resonated with. It’s not so easy to relate anymore. I find myself slowly receding into silence again. It’s like I’ve come full circle without having completed the journey. The contradiction glares at me while I try to make sense of it all.
Silence often says more than any vocal statement we make. It’s the language of both lies and compassion. For me, it’s the language of understanding. When I’m inclined to believe that my perspective will most likely be misunderstood or unappreciated, I tend towards silence. It’s my restraint and my statement. It restrains me from verbalising much that will be found offensive, often because of the harsh truth it contains given my poor bedside manner, and it’s my statement because I choose not to engage about something that I believe will not have a meaningful outcome. That’s how I use silence to make my statement.
Unfortunately there are too many that use it for very different reasons, the most common of which is to avoid being perceived unfavourably. In those moments when the truth is needed for closure, to understand the reasons for betrayal, or to know why the good we put forward was reciprocated with dishonesty or insincerity, silence cuts sharper and deeper than any harsh truths that could have been offered. In those moments the silent one tries desperately to hide their shame while maintaining a facade of arrogance or feigned hurt. Silence, in moments like those, is employed for no reason but to save the betrayer from having to share the truth of their betrayal.
I think it gets worse when we hold the key to justice but deny the rights of the victims when we choose not to get involved because of the potential repercussions for us. At times when world powers abstain from voting or acting against rogue nations or human scum in order to retain political alliances, their silence does to the victims of those oppressors what the silence of a lover does to their no-longer-beloved. The impact is the same, it’s only the scale that differs.
Every betrayal destroys a soul, and every soul holds within it an entire world. Each betrayal forces a reinvention of that soul, and each reinvention creates a more brittle soul. Brittle is not necessarily weak. It simply becomes more unpredictable as it gets closer to its limit. Fortunately for most, that limit is significantly more than most because of the reinventions. But when it is reached, the brittle snap that ensues leaves a wake of destruction that can rarely be understood.
But there’s a more important point I wanted to make about how we use silence for selfish purposes. Perhaps my use of silence is not as noble as I’d like to believe it is. Perhaps just writing this post will provide insights that will disarm me at important moments when others will correctly interpret my silence and take the offence I was hoping to spare them instead. Perhaps there will be none of that because as we’ve seen so often, a shared sin is often overlooked because the collective guilt pacifies our conscience anyway.
I think we all use silence in this way. I think the silence we maintain at times when we should be outspoken or brutally honest reflects our priorities in that moment. If speaking out will result in an increase of clutter or responsibility beyond what we currently wish to bear, then silence becomes the obvious choice.
Another incomplete thought process. I know there is a truth in there somewhere…but like life, the essence of it eludes me.
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A Can of the Best
I think a lot of people need to kick back and crack open a can of silence sometimes. Designed by FLOWmarket.
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I seem to be reaching out into a void that thrusts hoards of doubt into my heart about what I feel or believe to be important or real about my faith. Naively, I believe that there’s others out there that think it worthwhile to consider principles instead of rituals. Some that may be inclined to question the status quo through the realisation that just because everyone subscribes to a specific version of Islam doesn’t make that authoritative. Especially when the blurring of the lines between cultural practices and the Sunnah is such that the two cannot be clearly distinguished any longer.
I’ve always been an outsider. Despite knowing that accepting the mainstream views about most things would bring me the acceptance that I crave, my idealism won’t allow me to. So I’ve chosen a solitary path that forces me to dabble between sanity, and insanity. Sincerity and hypocrisy. Faith and disbelief. And every single time, as if addicted to the pain of isolation, I’ve consciously chosen the more difficult path. The unpopular one. The one that most shy away from because they’re afraid to question self-proclaimed authoritarians and would much rather be safe and go with the flow without questioning.
I’ve tried many forums to share my views or express my thoughts, and each time the only commonality in response has been the vacuous silence that offers no comfort nor alternative views. Just a silent restrained complacency that boils my blood in search of the truth. When I see how blindly so many accept the statements of the Ulama, it reminds me of the Christian church that forbids any questions to be asked about their belief system and threatens to excommunicate anyone that dares ask for logic behind the Trinity, or the second coming, or the miraculous birth of Jesus (pbuh).
Is this what we have become as Muslims? Ritualists without purpose except that purpose that the learned ones allow us to have? Have we forgotten how to seek the original truth rather than pursue the regurgitated truth of generations of cultural contamination? Or am I a borderline infidel that believes that principles are more important than practices and that context is more important than unquestioned imitation?
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Census
All these years I thought you were alone, but now,
laid open, it is clear two lost stars are burning into you.One keeps distant memories, art and travel, intimacy
echoed in a longing no longer yours to claim.The other is your nature in your time. Its heart is carnal,
quick, uneasy, its need to love and fear in drowning waves,and that silence you have carried like a dead limb all your life.
This reminds me of her…indeed the fear not to express the truth that lurks beneath is heavier than a dead limb…it must be…I can’t think of anything else that would drag someone so low that they would oppose every principle and every stated aspiration that they hold dear without reason or apparent motivation. Silence is far greater a destroyer of souls than any harsh words that could be uttered.






