Whispers. That’s what we hear when we watch television news or listen to ourselves reading from the New York Times or Chicago Tribune or skim messages from Facebook or Twitter.  These are not proclamations of truth or emphatic pronouncements of fact. They’re rumors and lies given credibility by their medium.

I wonder whether any of the whispers we hear are real.  Are they truth spoken softly? Or do they lead down a path of illusion that will never heal?

Are they wishes or wonder? Do they portend the future, or acknowledge the past?

This evening, for I am writing this late Thursday night only a while before the day ends, may be the time to express the rage I feel at not knowing. But what good will it do to express rage? Will that rage engender enlightenment?  No, it will only build on itself and mask even the gems of truth I might find in the whispers,

I have a theory. Happiness may be found only by discarding the idea that one will ever know whether the whispers offer glimpses of truth.  The other part of the theory is that, even if one knew for a fact the whispers offer glimpses of truth, truth would not bring with it happiness.

Happiness is out there, beyond the whispers.



About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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6 Responses to Whispers

  1. I think you two, Juan and Trish, are having parallel conversations in which I’m just an observer. Trish, I snagged the “What’s Love Got to do with It?” bit for a revised title for a cheesy poem I just posted. As for Deanie’s interpretation of the Wordsworth poem, I see it in an altogether different way. In my view, he is simply acknowledging that we don’t always see what is before us, yet it still influences our life. Deanie misread it; she over-interpreted it. So says me!

  2. Trish says:

    I’d forgotten to add this “tag” video…it is telling…I’ve learned, as did Deanie, the meaning behind William Wordsworth’s “Ode to Intimations of Immortality”….a sad realization no matter how you view it, in my opinion….


  3. Trish says:

    Juan, your first video (I love James Brown) no matter how you wanted use a metaphor, and there after the loving song of Al Green. It inspired me to another song, one that I never thought would have an impact. John, I sincerely believe that you cannot know one without knowing the other. When you’re in love, your entire being goes somewhere else…it is detached some how, yet seemingly connected. When the pain enters, it seems it might go to the same place where the strong feeling of love went. These feels are brothers and sisters, within our own emotional turmoil. Love brings us happiness, and the loss of that, brings on the pain. And all I can say after this, what a bitch the life can be! It hurts us, it pleasures us, but its ALWAYS one hell of a mix!

    And now I have a different view to some degree…..this song, that I choose, Juan somehow convinced me to take off my “rose colored glasses”, and I arrived to this….perhaps good (I needed to take off those glasses that disrupted the view), perhaps not, but its another perspective that never in my wildest imagination would be a strong possibility…but then again, all is possible, isn’t it? Indeed it is…and I’ve since learned to remove those glasses from time to time..


  4. I think. I write. I wish. I wander. says:

    Juan, almost everyone seems to suggest they know what happiness is, but when pinned down to define it, the concept goes to hell. Maybe a story about life, in which happiness is defined for the main character as the temporary absence of pain through the elimination of consciousness. Something along the lines of “we can’t know pain if we have no concept of what it is.”

  5. Juan says:

    Hmm. Should have posted this one, instead.


  6. Juan says:

    Your notes are so addicting!

    Happiness? What is that? What does real happiness mean to me? And, would it be forever? Is that what heaven is all about?

    I don’t know that…and I don’t know heaven. I even keep a Ruby 32.cal pistol under my pillow. That’s not happiness! That’s fear!

    Maybe we should try to write a Science Fiction story, John: authors who portray the earth as some hostile, Spartan planet – where only the strongest survive, children are pushed aside, and where even “human fetuses are killed for the lack of “space.”

    Probably the story has been told many times before with that same theme!

    Our barbaric society says little else but:


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