“And in the naked light I saw ten thousand people, maybe more. People talking without speaking. People hearing without listening. People writing songs that voices never share. And no one dared disturb the sounds of silence. ”˜Fools’ said I, ”˜you do not know silence like a cancer grows. Hear my words that I might teach you. Take my arms that I might reach you.’ But my words like silent raindrops fell and echoed in the wells of silence.” — Simon and Garfunkel

As the years roll mercilessly by life throws me lessons I have to learn, whether I’m ready for them or not. Some are welcome pieces of wisdom, other bumps in the road I’d just as soon forget. The most profound I’ve seen happen not all at once, but take root and show themselves slowly over time. These are the ones I’ve noticed tended to change the very person I thought I was.

There was a time in my life that if a thought ran through my head more often than not it was vocalized before much consideration about if it should be shared. My filter that separated my head and my voice seemed skewed on a good day and just plain missing on bad ones. I have countless memories of saying something I thought would be funny or entertaining only to realize, all too late, that the joke fell flat on its face. Evidently not everyone shares the same twisted sense of humor I possess. Too bad, its pretty humorous in my head most of the time.

Also neglecting any sort of filter has been my inclination to hand out advice whenever I saw a situation I didn’t agree with.

This one, above all, is a lesson which keeps eluding me.

Sometimes, watching other people’s lives unfold from the outside and hearing about their ups and downs it can be easier to see situations more objectively then if you were walking their shoes. So where is the line in the sand of letting them learn their own lessons versus speaking your mind? When they’re in danger? When there’s an opportunity for enlightenment? Or do you say nothing at all?

Yeah, I still have no clue.

To date I’ve been one to err on the side of blurt out what I think may be the right thing and hope it sticks, doesn’t offend and is a correct assessment. Like my jokes, that method hasn’t always worked out quite as I had planned either.

Its taken me a lifetime to realize that sometimes people just don’t want to hear it. Period. So stop. Talking.

No, really.

Close your mouth or change the subject.

Like now. Just back off.

That act is one I’m certainly still working on and have not, by far, perfected.

I still have a tendency to say entirely too much. Maybe it’s sharing my own personal experience I believe is similar to a situation being discussed, or my opinion of how something should be handled differently.

What I tend to miss, embarrassingly often, is when someone is talking about their life then that’s what they need to talk about. They could care less at that moment about my own history or preferences.

In light of repeatedly munching on my own foot including pretty recently I’ve decided to enter a new phase of being.

I call it the ”˜Learning to Keep My Mouth Shut’ period.

After years of projecting myself on others I have to admit that quietly sitting by and listening to the world move on without my input is strangely refreshing. For once I’m not invested in the outcome of other people’s mistakes. I’m simply here, processing without judging and not making a fool out of myself in the process.

I’m entirely certain there will come a time that I can keep quiet no longer, but for now I’m enjoying staying out of everyone’s business. It’s not that I no longer care about their lives. I’m still quite concerned for their welfare. But for the most part the ones who are near and dear to me are strong, capable adults who can handle their own or land on their own two feet if things go wrong.

And if I don’t necessarily agree with others’ choices I’m learning, slowly, that it’s not my job to lead everyone’s way, but to stand aside and live my own life the best I know how ”¦ perhaps a bit more quietly.

It’s about time, if I do say so myself.

— Elizabeth Reilly can be reached at elizabethreilly1@yahoo.com.