Opinion

random thoughts

The Silence of the lambs

Dear reader, have you con­tem­plated the ex­pres­sion ’the si­lence of the lambs’ and won­dered what it meant? For me, it means ’a state of un­know­ing’.

In April sun­shine, under a clear blue sky, the lit­tle lambs skip and jump, obey­ing some sort of primeval urge. They are com­pletely in­no­cent of the sad fact that in a few weeks’ time, they will no doubt be food on a plate with new pota­toes, green beans and mint sauce. Town­ies pass­ing slowly by in their big cars with the win­dows up and the heat­ing on, mar­vel at the bu­colic scene. ’How sweet!’ they mur­mur, ’you can tell spring is here.’ The on­look­ers too suf­fer from a sort of ig­no­rance.

Spring is a time of rapidly chang­ing moods. A feel­ing of joy fol­lowed by a feel­ing of de­pres­sion. Joy at the de­lights of na­ture, a fear that this will end and that we can’t stop time and hold on to the brevity of in­tense hap­pi­ness.

Con­sider this:

’Gather ye rose­buds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-fly­ing,

This same bud that blooms today

To­mor­row will be dying’

And this:

’Come, be with me and be my love,

And we will all the plea­sures prove.’

Both ex­press long­ing for fruition of their love. Long­ing to change the sit­u­a­tion, to be other than it is now. There’s an Eng­lish say­ing ’Be care­ful what you ask for. You might get it.’ Is there some­thing bet­ter or more last­ing than this?

Yes, there is. It’s the si­lence that per­me­ates all; that makes one lie by the side of a still lake, mo­tion­less, gaz­ing at the sur­face of the water. The re­flec­tion of the green wil­low tree, the curve of the leaves, the brown of the branches, the shadow of the clouds. There is no need to hold onto to it. No need to an­tic­i­pate, be­come pre­oc­cu­pied or con­cerned. Ac­cept the mo­ment and be­come a lamb for an in­stant: this is the ’state of un­kow­ing’. Rest in it.

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