Not Talking

We were driving.
Actually, I was driving.
The Man was riding.

We were talking.
Er, I was talking.
He told me to "stop bitchin'."

I stopped alright.

After a few minutes he asked,
"Are you pouting now?"

At the moment he asked that, my pack mule and I
were about eight miles down the trail in Pout Canyon,
alone except for the turkey buzzards
circling above Relationship Valley

Without glancing in his direction, I calmly told my life's partner
"You know, I'm not going to talk anymore. Forever.
I've been thinking about stopping for several days.
Now seems like a good time.
These are the last words you'll hear come out of my mouth."

He paused while those words oozed into the thick part of his brain
Then he responded with a "Ha!"

So, I stopped talking.
And it wasn't easy.
I had to listen to him say things like, look at the coal in those train cars,
wow, that's a lotta coal, where's it going I wonder, etc. etc., all the while
knowing it WASN'T COAL, IT WAS IRON ORE!!!
But, I didn't say anything.
Let him think it's coal.
What difference does it make.

Meanwhile my compulsion to speak
was banging me on the head with a sledgehammer,
jumping up and down with steam coming out of its ears .
But I bravely ignored it with a sniff.

Then I had to ignore it again...and again...and again.

It was like lassoing and trying to break a wild mustang.
It was rearing, bucking and would have bit me if it could.
I needed a horse whisperer!

I was being beaten down by a relentless desire to utter.

I started thinking how I needed to alter my oath,
especially the "forever" part.
There would be times when I would have to speak.
Greeting people would be difficult, otherwise.
And what about answering the phone?

It turns out that "forever" is a relative thing.
Two hours was forever in this case.

But, I learned a lot.

All things in moderation...
Being non verbal is liberating.
Holding one's counsel is a path to peace.