“The silence sings. It is musical. I remember a night when it was audible. I heard the unspeakable.”
– Henry David Thoreau

A question in my mailbox today read “What’s your relationship with silence?”. I thought about it. I could not write about it right away because the noise in my head was overwhelming. The noise outside my head too. Well, a good starting point then. Seek the right words.

Being silent. Most times, where I live silence is as abstract a concept as diving horses but worth a shot nonetheless. Early mornings. During the day when the boys are in school is quiet, most days. Still. Sometimes it becomes too quiet but that’s another chapter in the book of paradoxes of my life. I came to love the noise of my boys, you see. Sunshine.

I love silence as much as I am afraid of it. A good and necessary paradox. Silence can be deafening, have you heard of that? Those are the times when silence follows you like a dreaded ghost and you want it gone because it’s loud and makes your world shake. Hollowness. You drown silence in phone calls, background music or just noise. Anything but silence.

Then there are times when silence is draped over, cool and velvety and the only sounds that reach through are but words or bird songs in the distance. Sleeping bugs. Soft. Like learning to swim, learning to float through one’s silence is a necessary skill. Vital I’d say. So you can find that sun-patched winding road to yourself and hear all there is to hear. Questions and answers woven into what has to be searched for and dealt with.

In welcome silence I find my answers. That’s the sunny side of my relationship with it. Sneaky threatening silence chases me away from comfortable places within myself. A less brighter side. Less of this lately though. There is something to be said about living with joy, it takes away that rough scary edge of deafening silence. There’s no time for it you see.

Silence. To have and to breathe. To think. To hear.