Silence is Golden

I went to a salon today and got my hair trimmed. After years and years of salon visits, I finally figured something out. A solution. You see, I am not one for idle chit-chatting. In the beauty salon or the dentist's office, I'd much rather be mute. Mute for different reasons, but non-talkative in both instances. Visiting the dentist, which is a mental trial for me, all I want to do is meditate in silence. SILENCE. No idle chatter from the sidelines. I have to meditate. No outside stimulation. Period. This makes the dentist and his sidekicks nervous. If I don't respond to them, I guess they think I have stroked out. Quite the opposite: if I have to think about the here and now while I am in the dentist chair, then one of these days I WILL stroke out.

But in a salon setting it is just the opposite: I am relaxed. I am calm and happy. And plus, it's so much more entertaining listening to all the conversations around me. Leave me alone.

We Lutherans have a hand signal for the occasion of holy communion, if the partaker of which wishes not to receive communal wine, but rather white grape juice. The non-wine recipients hold the palm of their hand up facing the communion server. This signal goes with the flow of communion, and that's that, very simply.

So today, I got to thinking about that hand signal. I think hair salons should utilize a hand signal for people like me, who don't want to talk during their shampoo, head massage, haircut, and blow dry. (Here's the other thing: I can't hear above a blow drier anyway, so why should I try to carry on a conversation? I ask "What?" as much as I reply to anything anyway.)

Ditto the dentist. Maybe anyone who wishes to be excluded from inane conversation in a dentist chair should wear...black? I think I am on to something...

Grazing at Moonrise

Here's a fun silvery moon song: Clark Gable