My sacred combe
Oct. 19th, 2005 11:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pjthompsonQuote of the day:
"The hardest thing about the floor is its tendency towards sarcasm."
—Luke Sandro
Other quote of the day:
"A really big secret can keep you warm on cold nights, stifle hunger, drive shadows back. The best secrets make you feel safe. You could use this, you think, but not using it is what keeps you strong."
—Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Past the Size of Dreaming
Then again, as a friend of mine said, "I've never been able to keep a secret long enough to have that feeling." Sure, dishy secrets are hard to keep.
But I'm pretty good at keeping secrets—if they're worth keeping or if someone has asked me not to tell. I've kept some major ones for decades, if the need is there—my own and those that belong to others.
Having secrets, it strikes me, is a necessary condition of being human. I don't mean the festering kind, but the things that belong just to you, that are nobody else's business, that are your sacred combe away from the world. The thought of being completely transparent, of being connected 24/7, gives me a deep and pervasive attack of the shudders.
There are private places inside each of us, or there should be, that are not about shame or titillation or having the goods on someone. These places are about being who you are, about the wonderful gift of quiet and solitude and reflection, about being full-not-empty. Retreat from the world now and again is a good thing; keeping your special secrets is an enriching thing. It keeps your voice from becoming hollow when you go back out into the world and start speaking again.
"The hardest thing about the floor is its tendency towards sarcasm."
—Luke Sandro
Other quote of the day:
"A really big secret can keep you warm on cold nights, stifle hunger, drive shadows back. The best secrets make you feel safe. You could use this, you think, but not using it is what keeps you strong."
—Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Past the Size of Dreaming
Then again, as a friend of mine said, "I've never been able to keep a secret long enough to have that feeling." Sure, dishy secrets are hard to keep.
But I'm pretty good at keeping secrets—if they're worth keeping or if someone has asked me not to tell. I've kept some major ones for decades, if the need is there—my own and those that belong to others.
Having secrets, it strikes me, is a necessary condition of being human. I don't mean the festering kind, but the things that belong just to you, that are nobody else's business, that are your sacred combe away from the world. The thought of being completely transparent, of being connected 24/7, gives me a deep and pervasive attack of the shudders.
There are private places inside each of us, or there should be, that are not about shame or titillation or having the goods on someone. These places are about being who you are, about the wonderful gift of quiet and solitude and reflection, about being full-not-empty. Retreat from the world now and again is a good thing; keeping your special secrets is an enriching thing. It keeps your voice from becoming hollow when you go back out into the world and start speaking again.