Wisdom

 If I could think of something clever to say I would. Why wouldn’t I? It might embarrass someone? Let them be embarrassed. It might even be good for them. But what if though on the other hand I can’t think of something clever. Should I just keep my mouth shut or open it and hope for the best? There’s wisdom in silence, you might say. Yes, but what if it’s the opposite, and there is on this occasion no wisdom and just nothing to say? But as long as I keep silent, who knows what might be going on behind closed doors, behind the facade, so to speak. But then out spill some words, ordinary, and the spell is broken.

Yes but even there, who knows, something strange might happen. Amidst the banality, accidentally, somehow or other, wisdom inserts itself and gets in amongst the banality. But it’s just a feeling, you mightn’t be able to put your finger on where is the wisdom, that is if there is any - it just looks like after all there’s just ordinariness. It’s all like, let’s say, the effect of it, the wisdom, its presence, is there’s some pattern of things, invisible, in the mind, is the mind, and somehow that pattern all gets a little bit rearranged. It’s all very vague - but then again how could it not be vague if we’re talking about the rearranging of something invisible? So anyway you don’t even know if something has or hasn’t really happened. That’s how vague it is. But something does feel a bit looser, and it’s even maybe quite pleasant - so that’s enough to be getting on with.