Silent
The word "silence" comes from the Latin word silentium. The root is the Latin verb silere, meaning "to be quiet" or "to be still".
But there is another Latin word for "quiet". Tacere specifically means "not speaking" or "to hold one's tongue". Whereas silere referred to a stillness and peace, not withholding any thing like tacere.
Recently, I discovered the word, Hilom, Tagalog for "to heal" and Visayan (Filipino) for "silence". It's very close to a word in the names of my family and ancestors.
Silence can hold back from you, a weapon unintentional or not. Or it can impart a stillness and calmness in which to breathe, recover, restore.
One person's silere and Hilom is another's brutal tacere. I'm sure at this point I've danced both edges of an absence. It almost feels appropriate that I experience silence as tacere.
But the feeling is wrong. The "just world" projection is the brain and heart's way of making sense of a series of bad things that occur. Unlucky. Cursed.
There's no comfort in the illusion of control a "just world" lends to the brain, but for some reason, the amygdala fires passionately anyway. "This makes sense," it reasons, "This gives purpose and equal action for reaction. This means we can avoid such bad outcomes by being "good"and canceling out the karmic equations, right?"
The Wise part in me knows it's not so simple to equate soul karma with the "just world" projection a desperate, traumatized brain flattens it into. Though, they seem like cousins, one is illusion, the other is debatably real but not as closely related.
Silence can be kind. But it can also maim, intention be damned. What a fucked up little contrast that is, right?