If actions speak louder than words and words speak louder than thoughts, then what are thoughts louder than?
Nothing?
I
was at the Pee Dee Regional Transport Authority regional offices in
Florence, South Carolina. The Executive Director was showing me a map of
the different routes they ran with a huge map
that dominated a wall, with lines of lightbulbs spilling from Florence,
past the boundaries of the state in the shape of a slime mold.
"The
Governor has announced a twenty billion dollar contribution to the
great Pan-American railroad. Florence is going to be the main hub for
the East Coast." He explained. A string of lightbulbs switched on,
showing lines across the country and along each coastline.
I
look around at the Directors stood behind us. They were from
Darlington, Bennettsville, Mullins. County and City representatives
wearing bespoke suits and their arms folded in front of them, all giving
out big smiles and row upon row of perfectly straight, white teeth.
"Why
does this country hate trains so much?" I ask, unscrewing one of the
lightbulbs, throwing it in the air, bouncing it on my elbow and catching it. All the Directors
laugh in unison.
"The airline industry has ruined
rail travel in this country. But picture this; you're riding through the
great American landscape. You have legroom, you can sit around a table,
you can get off or on wherever you want. The train represents true
freedom in this country. We built thousands of miles of railroad across
America once upon a time. We need men and women to return to building
the biggest and best rail system in the world, so help me God."
Fans
embedded in the walls turn on, lifting the silken Stars and Stripes
mounted on interior flag poles. Everyone in the room, besides me, places
their hand in front of their hearts and sings the anthem.
I'm riding in a train cabin, sat on the Driver's knee.
"How
fast can it go?" I say, staring out of the front window. The tracks
merged together and disappeared around a corner. The Driver pushes the
acceleration pedal slowly. The train speeds up, going faster and faster,
beginning to tremble as its wheels ate up the tracks and every
imperfection that made up its lines. I could hear some of the passengers
begin to shout from behind the cabin door. I get up and lock it before
going back to the chair. We fly through a train station that was going
to be the next stop and it is gone before it is noticed.
"Speech without action is like telling someone a dream." I say.
"Action only exists in the present. It is through speech we relive action." says the Driver.
"To
view the universe through linguistics disassociates it from absolute
reality." I say, leaning forward so our heads are next to each other,
staring out at the railway cut into a hillside.
"Both
can exist and be true." Says the Driver, cranking the handle further,
making the train go faster. Sparks begin to fly out from the sides.
"To equate the reality of action with the symbolism of language is foolish. It is action that silences speech." I whisper.
"No action is taken without speech."
"Animals act without speech, except parrots and certain crows."
"We
wouldnt know what the other thought about actions and speech without
some form of communication. Whilst this train may be the action, the
railway tracks are what it runs on. Of course action happens without
speech, but it is through speech, or, representations of ideas, that we
comprehend what the train is doing. For one to exist without the other
doesn't make sense."
"Well what about this, buddy?" I say, showing them a sketch of a train going down the highway, its metal wheels replaced with rubber tyres.
"You
are still using a way of communicating a concept using a visual
language. There is no escape." They say, tearing the sketch from my
hands and throwing it in the air.
"But what about
this then?" I say, putting my finger on my lips. The train is hurtling
down the track, lights and alarms are going off, we pass a road, a car
brakes just in time, all the passengers are squeezed against the windows
and in the Driver's cabin I slowly reach out my arm with my hand in a
fist save for the index finger standing up proudly and place it onto the
lips of the Driver.
"Shush."
