Hearable silence

Words come less. Uttering a word – seeking meaning out there – feels increasingly needless. Before words come into pronounced existence, I notice the dynamic energy ‘underneath’ their potential expression. In this ocean of unimaginable meaning waves carrying emotional patterns seek to manifest, such as the need for recognition, the need to assert existence, but even more so there is an ongoing stream of subtle energy shifting shape continuously. Words which do find their way into ‘airtime’ feel more like music than any other medium, their meaning intensifies as such.

Intonation, timing, rhythm – their aliveness and supposed meaning are directly intertwined with how I say these words and at which moment in time they become a shared shifting reality of an unfolding narrative.
The taste of these words is quite intense and intensely fluid, changeable at the same time. They never loose connection with the whole of the story while no listener knows precisely when and how this tale will end – there is no overview, the coastline is continuously on the move, waves and ocean are one.

There is a depth to this disintegration that I haven’t experienced before – consciously. Even though something feels so familiar, every moment an encounter with a person that I have known forever for as far as I can feel, the freshness of my tears births a sense of unknown aliveness.
I recently listened to Ólafur Arnalds' music with dear friends. One of them asked my partner what this music means to him, what it 'is' really. My partner mentioned loneliness, sadness, and beauty. He gently asked me how I would describe it. My thoughts became thinner and thinner, my sensorial body opened up. I listened to the sounds which did not reach the musical coastline.

'It makes silence hearable.'