The Voice & the Silence

A few days ago I decided, in a rash decision I must admit, to put my blog offline. This was in response to certain events that for various reasons shall remain undisclosed. However, I soon realized that this was a decision I would come to regret. Primarily because my blog has become somewhat of my virtual baby, or perhaps more accurately a trusted friend. It’s been there in moments of happiness, but also more importantly in moments of anger, confusion and sadness. It’s taken a whole load of shit from me, listened and without prejudice supported me. There’s been critique from close friends and family as well as from people I do not know. I am extremely grateful for this. A lot of voices, some of them distant yet echoing from close proximity have been kind enough to speak their opinions, and believe me, I value them all. Others have been tremendously supportive, sometimes in times I didn’t expect it. After all I have been writing to my hearts content without paying much thought or respect to my surrounding who may have taken in some cases the brunt of my diatribes and public, in certain instances unforgiving disclosures.

But all, near all, have been sympathetic and encouraging and I thank you for that. After putting the blog offline I received a lot of positive reactions, much more than I had ever expected or hoped for. I guess that was the the moment I felt that I not only let myself down by stop blogging, but also people that actually invested their time reading my blog. It was only then it really hit me that my blog was more valuable to me than I ever could imagine.

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In my elementary school, from the class of 7 to 9 and later in the gymnasium I had a memorable teacher named Lennart. He was teacher in Swedish, Literature, Religion, History, Sociology and Psychology, in short almost half of all the subjects I was taking. Lennart was a teacher like no other. Apart from being in his late 50’s and thus close to retirement he had the youngest spirit of all of the teachers in my school. He was the kind of teacher that instead of  setting boundaries would  challenge and inspire you. Lennart would encourage us to follow our own paths, be renegades and never, NEVER settle for less. In his eyes we were all raw diamonds one day destined become brilliants. As the kind of teacher that knew his pupils better than they knew themselves he soon discovered my passion for writing, before I did so myself. I would write essays and short stories, in my mother tongue Swedish, and would get full mark. Often would my work be complimented by a remark such as “Bene!” or Bravissimo!” When one day, he asked me to come up to the lecture desk and read my story out-loud I was blissfully unaware that this was the beginning of many such occasions. He would often announce me as the “Nobel prize winner” referring to the prestigious prize in literature. I felt both proud yet embarrassed at this description.

The first few lines I would read out loud would always be the worst, in which my nerves would announce themselves by way of a slight tremble to my voice. Mid way this disappeared only to come back at the very end as I knew the punch line would come. I was very careful paying much attention to the end as those last few sentences would be what people would walk away with. It always worked…

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Later I have come to believe that The Voice is the most beautiful tool we have been granted. In particular, The Voice that speaks with utmost clarity, never afraid of standing alone. The One that whispers when others shout, but somehow gains in strength whilst others retreat, one by one. And one day, It stands there, crisp, clear, like the peak of a mountain that is gradually unveiled by surrounded clouds.

I cannot think of a greater crime than silencing that Voice. Because if we as a society cannot accept the 7 billion voices on this earth, how can we then accept The Voice within ourselves?