Easy Silence

Nothing is quieter than winter in my little town. Almost no cars pass by the house in a day. When you go outside, you can hear things you might miss in the summertime, certain soft birdcalls and the dripping of melting snow from a tree. There are no concerts or plays and few, if any, meetings in town. Most people leave to go find warmer, less quiet places; the only sign of life on the lake are two hard core fishermen in a turquoise boat who troll for salmon relentlessly and apparently have anti-freeze in their veins.

I used to be nervous around such quiet. It made me feel I was missing something somewhere else, though I didn't know what that was or where it could be. I didn't appreciate the incredible spiritual depth that can be found in quiet, nor did I understand what quiet can do for my work. Furthermore, I was afraid of such stillness, as if I'd finally have to be quiet and alone with myself for a change ... and what I'd find out would really make the bottom drop out.

Since those days, I've come to understand not only how restorative quiet is, but how necessary it is. In order to connect with our creative projects, we really need that stillness. Our tender, fragile creative voices are hard enough to hear. Once you add the static of these crazy, complicated, overly busy lives we've cooked up, it becomes downright impossible. There is a reason writers have always headed to the hills to write their opus magnus -- they already know the magic of quiet.

I've found there is an orderliness to quiet. Each bird that flies by, each ray of sunlight that shines in the window and each mote of dust that drifts through it seems to exist in the perfect space and time. Deep quiet heals with that very simplicity, for it demands nothing from us. We don't have to be 'on'; we don't have to know anything in particular, or even solve any problems. We just have to be willing to be, pure and simple, without a whole lot of stuff to keep us busy. And should we choose to work on our creative endeavors, the quiet comforts us like a thick, soft blanket, urging us to dig deeper and relax into its spritual embrace.

Take a moment to think about how you could create more quiet in your life right now, even if it's as simple as shutting the door, taking out your journal, and emptying your head of its complex tangle of thoughts. Is there a retreat you've been wanting to make, to a commercial retreat space or a friend's cabin in the woods? Is there a walk you've been needing to take, to an old favorite place or through the nearest park? Or is it as simple as taking a quiet bath, and just allowing yourself to hang out in the tub, uninterrupted, and let your thoughts flow, minus reading material, music playing, mantras to recite or any other stimulus to encounter.

Chances are if you allow yourself to really grow quiet for a while, you will make discoveries. There really is magic in silence, and surprises that are waiting to be found out ... if you've got the courage to calm down, quiet down, and go there. I invite you to drop everything for a while and grow quiet for at least an hour. See if you can work it into your schedule to do this several times a week, or as often as you're moved to. And keep a journal handy for writing down inspirations and illuminations as you find them.

In silence lie all the secrets of the world. All you have to do is get quiet enough to hear them.

TRY THIS

If you're afraid to plunge into quiet, here are some sentances to complete in your journal. Use them to learn more about the truth about you and silence.

I don't like silence because ...

If I were to become completely still and silent for a while, I would ...

Believe me -- I'd spend more time in quiet if only ...

If I were to have an hour of uninterrupted quiet, I might ...

I'm scared of silence because it might make me ...