Tag: love

Taciturnity, By Choice

I finally saw the quiet truth behind the noise. I started to see how often words are used to fill space rather than to build meaning. I realised that silence when chosen, can carry more weight than explanation. This work is not a confession and not a performance. It is a reflection of the strength found in restraint, on the clarity that grows when we stop trying to be heard. Taciturnity is the shape I have chosen to take.

The wiser you become, the more you realise how much can be left unsaid.

Taciturnity, to me, is not an escape; it is a refinement. A conscious detachment from the cacophony of unearned opinions and fruitless contests. It offers, in its quietude, an enduring kind of relief; not from life itself, but from its more performative burdens: the compulsions to explain, to persuade, to correct.

Call it cowardice if that suits your understanding. I will not object. But know that in my silence lies not surrender, but synthesis. I have argued, dissected, defended, and prevailed, and yet found that victory often bears the same weight as defeat. Both are noisy. Both require attention. My silence, by contrast, is free.

It is not the silence of confusion, nor that of resignation. It is clarity stripped of vanity. A stillness that no longer seeks applause.

There is a peculiar liberation in relinquishing the need to be heard. It is not that I have nothing to say; it is that not everything demands to be said. The urge to prove has diminished; the need to “win” no longer holds currency. I have learned that noise, even when eloquent, can become a form of erosion.

Taciturnity is not emotional absence. It is emotional precision. I no longer swing between crest and trough. I do not chase highs, nor do I linger in lows. And while it may disappoint those who crave dramatics, it suits the architecture of my mind.

I arrived here not by accident, but by attrition; a deliberate distillation of what truly matters. The world has hurled its lessons with admirable consistency. I have not merely endured them; I have integrated them. And in doing so, I chose to recalibrate rather than react.

All extraneous sound is now gently filtered out. The appetite for debate has waned; not out of exhaustion, but because I find little value in contests where truth is secondary to volume. The notion of a “comeback” feels theatrical. I was never gone. I simply ceased performing.

I have no interest in restarts, only in intentional stillness. This pause is not stagnation; it is sovereignty.

Do not show me clouds that posture as promise. Do not offer suns that illuminate nothing. I do not walk roads for spectacle, nor fight battles that are pre-scripted. I do not sit beneath trees that offer no shadow, nor knock upon doors that were never mine to enter.

I have not abandoned emotion. I have simply stopped outsourcing it. I do not seek to laugh on cue, nor weep for approval.

I have chosen taciturnity, not as withdrawal, but as authorship. It is not the absence of voice, but the mastery of when and why to use it.

A letter to daughter

Dear Daughter

As you are thirteen now, you have crossed the threshold into a realm of dreams and infinite possibilities, and I fervently hope that life unfurls its wonders before you with gentle grace. Know that your father is immensely proud—not merely of your achievements but of the depth with which you seek meaning and purpose in the ever-unfolding tapestry of existence.

It has long been my vision to see you flourish in a world without borders, to witness you learning in an environment where knowledge is not confined by walls and where your mentors inspire not merely through lessons but through the richness of their diverse experiences. It fills my soul with profound gratitude to the Almighty, who has granted me the privilege of watching my dream materialize—to see you embark on this transformative chapter of your life in Ireland.

I do not pretend to be oblivious to the trials that accompanied this change—the unfamiliar faces, the foreign customs, the daunting solitude that often accompanies the uncharted. Yet, my dear, you bore these challenges with an elegance that surpasses words. Not once did you let your apprehension mar the serenity of your countenance, though I, like a father who knows the silent language of his child, saw the telltale signs—your fingers absentmindedly grazing your nails in quiet unease. And yet, you prevailed. You navigated the labyrinth of change with an unshaken spirit, displaying a wisdom far beyond your years.

Life, in its very essence, is an ever-shifting current. Our bodies, thoughts, and even our deepest convictions ebb and transform in imperceptible ways, bound to the intangible dimensions of time and space. You, my beloved daughter, have embraced this truth with an intellect and resilience that astound me. Though you seldom speak of it, I am aware of the prejudice and unkindness you have endured at the hands of those too small-minded to see beyond their own narrow world. You endured it with quiet fortitude, neither bending to their cruelty nor allowing it to define you. That, my child, is a strength few possess—a strength that will serve you well in the years to come.

You are a vision of grace, a rare beauty illuminated not merely by outward charm but by the quiet fire of your spirit. I recall, with unshakable pride, the time when your mother and I were compelled to leave for India due to an unforeseen medical emergency. In our absence, you stood steadfast, tending to your grandparents with a maturity that belied your years, offering them the comfort and assurance they so dearly needed in a land still foreign to them. Their concern had been for you, and yet it was you who became their guardian, their quiet pillar of strength.

It was during this time that you received your first mobile phone—a serendipitous consequence of our untimely departure to India. While many urged me to impose restrictions, I chose to place my trust in you instead. A phone, after all, is but a portal—a window into a world vast and boundless, one painted in myriad shades, neither wholly light nor wholly dark. It is yours to navigate, yours to discern between what is good and what is unworthy. I have faith that you will choose wisely.

As parents, we often perceive you through the prism of our own past, through the echoes of the lives we have led. Yet you belong to a time different from ours, one shaped by experiences we have never known. And though we may not always understand, trust that we try, every single day, to walk beside you, to feel the rhythm of your world, to match the cadence of your soul.

Your love for your brother reminds me of the bond I once shared with my sister, a bond woven with both tenderness and the sweet, inevitable mischief of siblinghood. Annoyance and affection, love and rivalry—such is the nature of brothers and sisters, a dance unchanged by time. And though it pains me to see you longing for the companionship of the dear friend you lost to the tides of circumstance, I have no doubt that the universe will conspire to bring you together again. True friendships, the ones written in the stars, never truly fade. They endure, waiting patiently for the moment of reunion, where time will have changed nothing but the stories you will have to tell.

So go forth, my beloved child, with the certainty that you are cherished beyond measure. The world is vast, its roads winding and uncertain, but wherever life may lead you, know that my love and my pride shall follow you, steadfast and unwavering, like the light of a distant star guiding a traveller home.

Your Proud Father