Last evening I wrote in the quiet. I watched a movie on cable. I read, then wrote some more. And settled slowly into a rhythm of 24 hours of silence. Strangely peaceful silence.
Everything in me unwinds, finally, after a week of being on my own, in this observation of an hour of silence, and then another, and its river of hours pouring into each other, indistinguishable, into a stream of solitude that I did not choose, in which I find myself afloat. Calmly.
* * *
We observe a moment of silence as those we love pass out of our lives. We bear sorrows that weigh unbearably and yet we hold vigil long past the sounds wrenched from our throats, past tears that strip our eyes of blinking. What returns are waves of stillness, nights peopled with characters and symbols to decipher, the mind weary, sorting out its private code.
Disappearance gathers in a growing crowd as we begin to age. Loved ones. Strangers. Possibilities.
I observe a moment of silence for the unborn. I observe a moment of silence for tiny M. I observe a moment of silence for my father, who always reaches for my hand this time of year. No explanation of loss ever makes sense.
* * *
Rain no longer floods the yard. Sunlight lays gold leaf to roughened bark. Coffee will brighten my step, and daylight’s habits will chase away shadows.
Even after restless sleep, even in this melancholy that is not altogether unpleasant, loneliness refashions itself into something else. Into acceptance.
In silence, I write of listening to oneself speak. In this silence, I write of listening to the quiet. To the rhythm of inner voices, where dreams never quite abandon us, where grief revisits and is acknowledged, where space once filled and torn away may offer its embrace.
…
Well spoken (quietly)
Sometimes quiet is lovely, isn’t it.
This is beautiful. Quiet, but profound.
I do a fair amount of listening, employing a fair amount of silence in my work, and I’ve been thinking about how silence can inform writing and blogging. As I prepare to blog a touch less, I think about how I might enter into myriad chambers of silence as well.
Wishing you well, but not quite silently.
Beautiful!
This post really resonated with me. Acknowledging those that have passed in those quiet times is a nice way to honor the passage of time and those that we have loved.
My goodness, how I adore this! There are so few moments when we just stop and appreciate the quiet and yet it really can be so nourishing. Because my children are so young, quiet moments are few and far between in my house. I find them, like you, in writing. But lately, I find them in sitting outdoors and listening to the loudness of nature. For some reason the loudness of nature always quiets my mind. Thank you for this beautiful piece.
24 hours of silence and solitude – priceless. Amazing what it can do for you, physically and mentally, isn’t it? So glad you got this much-deserved treat.