Tag Archives: childhood

Where is silence – my native tongue?


Where is the river that I crossed?
Where is the tree that I climbed?
Where is the mountain that I lifted?
Where are the clouds of my chidlhood days?
Where is my summer? Where is the heartbeat of my past?
Where is the wind that breezed past my face?
Where is the storm that rocked my boat?
Where are the fears I could not face?
Where are the tears I once shed?
Where is the roof that hung over my head?
Where are the raindrops that hit against the pavement?
Where are the snowflakes that I captured in my hand?
Where is the fly that danced on my palm?
Where is the thunder I once heard?
Where are the words I once spoke?
Where are the thoughts I once had?
Where are the eyes with which I looked at the world?
Where are the legs with which I traveled and ran before?
Where are the hands with which I shook yours?
Where is the air that I have squandered?
Where is the kiss I once received?
Where is the flower that faded away?
Where is the candle that burned out?
Where is the sunset that went beyond the horizon?
Where is the wave that reached the shore?
Where is the time that wasn’t on my clock?
Where is the child that became my father?
Where is the cry with which I came out of my mother’s womb?
Where is silence – my native tongue?


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What would you do if a young American in a black suit approached you on a street and offered you his spiritual advice? Would you take the gamble and return the act of kindness (his invitation for an interaction with you) by sacrificing a couple of minutes of your valuable time? Would you listen to what he has to say and offer? Now, imagine, that this young and ignorant punk were a Mormon, would this make any difference to you? I can answer only for myself. In the past two weeks I have had the pleasure and honor of meeting three youthful Mormon lads – Reeves, Fox and one other guy, whose name I don’t remember (all American – from Washington D.C., Texas, Utah respectively). This is a remarkable accomplishment in itself of which I am quite secretly proud, amazed and amused at the same time. Ever since my early 20s I have had a fervent desire to discuss matters spiritual with the convinced knee-benders, involved shareholders and serious gamers of any self-congratulatory sect or religious enterprise. From then on, I have had many stimulating and boring conversations with all sorts of people – self-proclaimed gurus, notorious avatars, serious meditatiors, legion of New Agers, Micky Mouse Zen-masters, country priests and pastors, monks and nuns, psycho-babblers and herbalists, even with a guy who managed to convince himself that he had a direct communication line with God himself and his heavenly hierarchy. Continue reading


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