Silence

Silence is an interesting thing. It has the capacity of being peaceful, comfortable, beautiful as well as the most awful, uncomfortable experience. I’ve thought about the different facets of silence this past week as I considered the changes my own personal silence has gone through over the past decade. It has morphed and shifted and gelled around phases of my life, places in my life, where I have given it a chance to teach and to give insights that had I ignored the silence, I would have missed.
In college, with the exception of my first year, I had my own room and bathroom. Quiet was easily achieved, though rarely sought out. I study and concentrate better in quiet, so I would establish the times I needed the quiet to finish my homework. The rest of my time was surrounded by people, activities and the endless lectures of my teachers. Silence, though, was different to me than just quiet. Silence I would find on walks at night, usually with one or both of my roommates. On late night drives from Salt Lake to Logan. Passing Mantua in Sardine Canyon I never could get any good stations on the radio, so I would turn it off and just…be. .In the quiet of the night I had the opportunity to study that silence. I was always surprised at the things I would remember or think about. Conversations days old would return with impressive clarity, and I could hear what that person was actually trying to tell me. Thoughts of people that I had assumed were just random passing miss-you moments would often turn into a pressing need to call them or write them. I was always humbled to find out it was a need on their part, not mine, being answered when I would take that minute to contact them.
As newlyweds, we had a super quiet house. I’ll call it peaceful because it doesn’t sound as lonely or pitiful. We had no TV, Jon worked, and I knew no one in the state of Virginia. I can’t describe the relief that flowed through me when the phone company hooked up our phone. Lines of communication have rarely been so appreciated. But in that quiet, that peacefulness, Jon and I established us as a married couple. People say the first year of marriage is the hardest, but I disagree. It was one of the most, well, peaceful years I have ever had. I learned pretty early to enjoy each of those moments of quiet with my new husband, because I had an inkling of what lay ahead…
Kids. Well, that changes the definition of a quiet house, doesn’t it? With just one child, we still made the most of the quiet, but Lucy got too used to having such a quiet house. After bedtime, Jon and I would whisper so we wouldn’t wake her up. Only first-time parents would even consider doing something like that, but we did. And we loved the quiet of the evenings together.
Multiple kids. We try to have quiet time every day while Owen is sleeping and we’re usually pretty good at it. No TV, no phones, no running around. Quiet time to think, for me to recharge and for Anabel and Lucy to know that being by themselves is something to be treasured, not a punishment. It’s delightful to discover things about yourself, to feel comfortable with yourself, that only that quiet time can give. I love that time during the day, listening to the soft murmur of my house during quiet time. It’s peaceful and full of contentment and the joy of discovery. Silence in my house, though, I have learned is often the precursor to trouble. If my kids are silent, it’s a warning I cannot ignore. It means the kids are doing something they know they shouldn’t be doing and I have a very limited amount of time to find them and stop said activity.
I went to the grocery store the other day and looked at all the people around me. I lost count of the cell phones, the ear buds and the hand held video games. We have the capacity in our cars to have not just one, but six CDs in at all times. Endless radio station possibilities and let’s not forget the ever-present cell phone. Jon and I only have one cell phone between us, which some people complain is just barbaric. What if they need to call us? Talk to us about something so earth-shattering it can’t wait for even twenty minutes it would take for us to get home to the voice mail? Well, I have to be honest. I like those times when people can’t get a hold of me. It’s freeing. It’s nice. It’s necessary! I have to remind myself to turn things off, enjoy the moment of talking to my kids in the car and finding out what they’re thinking. It’s always more entertaining and way more fun than any song on the radio or any show I could put in the DVD. And, I have to ask myself, what am I missing when I forget to listen to that silence that is ever more difficult to find? Like Bob Dylan said, “I accept chaos.” It’s a delightful part of life, one I wouldn’t miss for the world. But it’s in the quiet, the silence, those beautiful and rare moments that I am able to learn and grow.