Day 40 – Quiet

Life rhythms ebb and flow.
Connecting to self is the task.
Still, the ebb lingers.
- Saoirse Charis-Graves 

“What you thinking about Mom,” Piper asked yesterday as we were sitting together in the back seat of the car. Since I can remember, Piper’s been the one who’s always noticed people’s facial expressions and checking in … it’s a practice (for all of us) to learn the difference between noticing with curiousity and assuming or fawning to take care of other people’s feelings …

And so, as I sat in quiet yesterday, she noticed. She asked.

“Nothing much,” I answered, surprising even myself, “just sitting here in quiet.”

Quiet.

I’ve noticed it more and more recently.

I have a visceral reaction to listening to any more podcasts. Where I used to use driving, cooking, walking as times to “catch up,” my body now responds with a loud and clear no… no more.

Where I used to revel in the opportunity to chat, to share my thoughts, to talk about and through things, to “figure it out as I talked,” I now find myself quiet, not holding back, but not sensing the urge to jump in or fill the space with a bunch of words.

“So …. what you want to talk about?” was my familiar phrase as soon as there was empty quiet space, and lately I see myself more and more at ease in the quiet.

And it’s not just sound, it’s also within me.

I am less apt to fill up the space within my brain with more, noticing lately how quickly I feel full.

Courses or subscriptions or learning opportunities or books or webinars or newsletters have come up and whereas before there was always a yes, a fear driven FOMO, and also a genuine desire for learning … I now find myself at a place of rest, and I haven’t finished any books lately, instead I’m slowly finding myself returning to fiction.

Where every quiet space (especially the bathroom!) was always filled with words, written, auditory, invisible ones in my mind… I more and more crave and need the space, the room, the quiet.

I notice how I am less and less habitually drawn to my phone, to social media, to reaching for tech as a means to fill the space.

I no longer consult any parenting books, or posts, or tips … instead choosing to trust what I’ve got, or at the very least to stumble back from my mistakes.

Walking with a friend the other day, grateful for the connection, I recognized how in my chatting, I had completely missed being on the walk. I couldn’t recall passing by the old shack, or turning the corner, or getting to the opening of the trees, places I notice every time I am walking in solitude. It was a disorienting feeling, as if I had been there, but not really, and I began to realize how much of life can feel like this amidst all the noise … of the world, and that of my own creation.

It’s not burn out.

It’s enough.

It’s less.

It’s the subtractive versus the additive journey.

It’s time. I’ve been saying and knowing I needed this quiet for a long time, and it hasn’t been until now that it has arrived – not in a manner of “doing” quiet or less, but in a simple way of being.

It’s quiet. And being okay with that quiet. Or, being okay with the noise within me, and doing nothing but notice and be with it … not running away, mentally or physically, or unnecessarily making it louder.

Quiet is more than an absence of word: through the layers of muted darkness, it teaches me a new kind of listening…. At first, it is hard to sit still through the cold and empty hours, with only my restless thoughts. Then slowly, I acclimate.

Conserving Quiet – Molly St. Clair

And yet, paradoxically here in this space, and in many connnections, I am more and more often getting my full self in the room – weirdness, differences, nosy-ness, and all. And as I do, I find myself curious of how “no holding back,” allows for spaciousness, for quiet, for less over-analyzing, less seeking for understanding, certainty, knowledge, less of the voices of rumination, of self-criticism, of worry, doubt, judgement … less fear. And if not less, then at least the spacious awareness to notice and let it all arise and travel through …

Leave your front door and your back door open.
Allow your thoughts to come and go.
Just don’t serve them tea.
- Shunryu Suzuki

A few days ago, the girls and I were talking about the difference between being self-referred (inner power, freedom and trust) versus other-referred (reliant on the external), and I was taken back to my teenage and early adult years and how often my being, my okay-ness, my inner peace and worthiness was dictated by the external, and how easily one can still find themselves in those old patterns of being.

Perhaps, in the quiet, I am beginning to hear, maybe even to trust, my own words, my own path, my own inner journey. Integrating and remembering and bringing the things I already know, versus grasping for more and for an illusive “there” arrival point, there’s a slow sauntering along the path, noticing and taking the scenic routes, instead of a sweaty, constant power walk (I hate running), with only destination in mind.

And very practically speaking, writing every day has me quiet … listening, noticing, observing, reflecting … a necessity in order to have something to put down on this page each evening, trusting and seeing that when I arrive here, I don’t need to have it all, or any of it figured out, but just allow what already exists …

Me: What's the best way to learn to be spiritual? 
Old Woman:  Pack Light. 
Me: ??? 
Old Woman: Carry only what you need for the journey.  Don't tire yourself out with unnecessary stuff. 
Me: Like what? 
Old Woman: Like your head.  Like your talk.  Spirituality isn't found in your head.  It's found in your heart.  It isn't found in big, important sounding words or long speeches.  It's found in silence.  If you travel with your heart and your quiet, you'll find the way to spiritual. 
- Richard Wagamese, "Embers" 

Until Tomorrow…

N