Keeping quiet to understand

It's a great paradox that requires us to be silent while we express ourselves. Quiet, not in the sense of remaining silent, but in the importance of keeping oneself humble while trying to rule on certainties.

It's early autumn. I walked three kilometres this afternoon to get my medicine. The sun shone so brightly that it could fool you about the season. People were walking around in light clothing, sitting on terraces. For them, the following season could wait. All the same, I had locked myself in my headphones, listening to some haunting music.

I like the calm it gives me, as I lack air and thoughts. I just walked slowly. There's no need to rush. The antibiotic I'm still taking for two days prevents me from exacerbating the muscles. I've paid the price this week, walking briskly to and from work. I slept poorly that night, my legs complaining of the effort.

And then, what's the point of hurrying? There's nothing else to do but live, contemplate, and listen with the eyes to the first signs of future dormancy. In these pages, I've already said too much about how much I love this season. For me, it is the ultimate example of universal rhythms.

The cosmos is too vast for autumn to be a parable. But cycles exist, the cords that hold and release our existences. What is created in a nebula feeds our Earth's carbon.

This doesn't mean we're unconscious puppets. We are the manifestation of what is. Our consciousness dances with photons, and our gaze embraces the light of galaxies.

You really have to be able to shut up to understand these things. And too bad if we don't understand anything because it's the only way to accept living.

I'm dreaming, of course, imagining the whole planet silent for a single minute. It would be nice if we could all breathe through our noses and understand what our destiny has in store for us.