XIX. When I placed a stone on my tongue, a friend told me not to be too hard on myself, as if the stone were in my hand and I was using it to bash my head. But my mouth is not gored, wind and sand have worn the stone’s edges smooth, so I did not try to explain, and the rock in my mouth didn’t even whimper. I have been talking for decades now, and maybe my voice is nothing in the sea of words, just one more small abrasion but my friends’ ears must be ringing and what have I said? If silence is more awkward than speech, it is because finally we feel the weight that is always on our tongues. So I am a slow learner and need a reminder to become quiet and even then, my thoughts run like a deep spring. If I cannot go into the desert to become a hermit, I will take the desert into my mouth and begin to practice with friends.
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