In reflection in mid-December:
Staying quiet on the page can be interpreted in many ways. The best excuse is having no excuse, except - perhaps - using full bore silence to reduce the noise in the world.
What has a period of silence (metaphorically speaking) meant for those of us lucky enough to enjoy such privilege I wonder?. I recently came across this line:
"The list is the origin of culture,” the writer Umberto Eco said - a quote I picked up in the New York Times food column, and lists exist “to make infinity comprehensible.”
Because without a doubt one of my solemn habits during enforced quiet during the worst of the Covid scare was being able to read, download, and keep lists/piles of favorite recipes from the Times' food editors and contributors. A now-heaving load laid away in a closet, having very little meaning otherwise. It exists to remind myself how the act of cooking is never the same as the art of cooking. I acted to keep myself well fed - well, enough so - and create a hobby of sorts that had great benefits.
That same NYTImes cooking column I quote had another quote from a Japanese author/poet Shonagan:
“In life, there are two things which are dependable. The pleasures of the flesh and the pleasures of literature.”
Look her up. Yes, a woman. She wrote the witty 'The Pillow Book' about a thousand years ago.
Not to be able to read can be equated with being unable to eat. Not to enjoy either is the end of the line...
