The Sound of Silence

Hello Darkness, my old friend . . . 

This turns out to be a very different post from any I'd have expected to write that would start with those words.

I heard a Paul Simon interview on the radio this morning, in which he discussed his current album while in the midst of his farewell tour. The album consists of new treatments of older songs that he'd decided he wanted to do something different with. Of course, during the interview they played this song, which is not on his new album, because he mentioned it as one of only a relative few that he's never really wished he'd done anything different with. I agree with him that it's amazing he could've composed this at 22 or 23 years old. I've always had an affinity for it, too. But this morning, something important dawns on me.

The darkness is not, and has never been, my friend.

It is more akin to a secret lifelong lover, to whom I clandestinely steal away on a regular basis, in the vain hope of experiencing a deeper and more mysteriously noble version of myself.

That is an empty promise, a vapor, a mirage. All it really has ever done is to suck the joy out of the life to which I am called.

Goodbye, darkness . . .