Knowing Samina (part 4)

"We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls." - Mother Teresa

I did not start talking until the final quarter of my third year. According to my mom, I knew how to speak, which I demonstrated at the doctor's by uttering the words 'mamma' when she took me there out of concern for my silence. Yet, for some unknown reason, I just decided I didn't want to be heard. Sometimes I wonder about the reasons for my vocal protest. Was it intential, a carefully thought out plan which enabled me to fully observe this strange world? Was it, as Mother Theresa suggests, my way of finding God, of growing like the trees, of moving like the stars. Or was I just slow?

In my adult life, I certainly wish there were times when I was a child again and capable of being silent. I'm not always the most elequent with my words and have been astonished by the things I mutter. Often, as the words leave me, I'm quite aware that they are inappropriate, incoherent, or completely false, yet I can't stop from saying them.

Fortunately, there are also times when I am quite brilliant with the spoken word and glad that I overcame my vocal shortcomings. In a crowded room, I can find the confidence to coduct a symphony of laughter with quick wit and sharp observations. On a good day, I can flawlessly defend my side of a debate and catch the glimmer of defeat in my opponents eyes. And, when I am fully committed to the fundamentals of Jihad, I can reveal my shortcomings, accept responsibility for poor behviour with heartfelt apologies, and brush aside my pride long enough to admit defeat.

But despite my current state of vocal aptitude, I sometimes feel like that child trying to find her voice. This struggle can be found in the secrets I keep for other people that I know should be revealed. It haunts me when I am silent in the face of socially deviant behaviour. It riddles me when I realize that I am not capable of revealing romantic feelings for anybody. And it is a burden when I review the blog entries that remain in draft mode. I have never published them for fear that they may be critisized as too long, ridiculed as too serious, or rejected for being wierd. Maybe since this was once one of those unpublished blog entries, I am one step closer to understanding the need for silence but also finding my voice.