Yes, silence because it is an act of love as we anticipate the coziness of the woodstove in winter.
Silence isn't just the absence of noise in my ear. At the moment, as I write, I am sitting in the sunroom feeling the silence of the sound of my son-in-law's ax splitting the wood from a tree we had taken down in our front yard. I look out the window: crack, and then sheer silence, crack and more sheer silence. I love the sound of the crack, and, the sound of the silence in between the crack. And then I love the calm when he comes in to stack the woodbin.
Yes, silence because it is an act of love as we anticipate the coziness of the woodstove in winter.
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Early, and I mean early (4:30) I decided that this Labor Day would be a silent day, a day when I would talk less, which implied listening more. The morning, however, became rather busy around here with my daughter and son-in-law deciding whether to buy a house they had just seen. Much conversation was needed, and rightly so. Nevertheless, I do give myself a pat on the shoulder for listening more than talking. And now I sit in the yard watching my husband garden in silence. When I started this blog back in 2009, I was particularly focused on solitude. I was starting my time alone at the cottage by the sea. The solitude was palpable; silence and simplicity followed naturally. My life right now still gives me solitude. At the moment I am sitting out at a little spot in my yard that I've carved out for myself. With my daughter and son-in-law living with us, my life isn't as simple as it was when it was just the two of us, mainly because I am planning meals and cooking for four. But it is simple enough. What about silence? Yes, there is silence. The four of us want silence and are respectful of each others' time and space for that to be honored. There is enough physical silence.. What I am working on, however, is mental silence: silence that I hear when my mind stops chattering and hears peace, or perhaps just the whisper of a still small voice in the breeze. We often read about people who go off for a few days or a few months to be in silence. I've done that and have written about it. I've tried to be grateful for these opportunities but I know that I've taken them for granted because so much of my life has been filled with blessing. Right now I am off again for a few days of solitude. This time to the monastery of Saint John the Evangelist in Cambridge, a 45 minute drive from my home. This isn't my first time on a silent retreat at the monastery. I know the rule: silence. I also know the routine for the guests. We have a single room-- our cell; we can attend services (the Daily Office) with the monks; we eat lunch and dinner in silence with them. We can walk along the Charles River, sit out in the guest garden, read in the public rooms, visit the Fogg Museum…. If we have tickets to a Red Sox game, we can cross the river to Fenway Park. The only rule, silence when on the monastery grounds. Silence does not include writing and sharing on a blog. And so, here I sit, looking out my cell window, sharing the silence with you. I want to recommend Lucy by the Sea, by Elizabeth Strout, the fourth book in a series about Lucy (and William). That being noted, you don’t have to read the first three in order to immerse yourself in this one. Lucy by the Sea is a stand-alone, par excellence. Everyone, and I mean everyone, will relate to the context—lockdown during Covid. There are many approaches to this book, many themes. I was most touched by a universal message at the core of each of Lucy’s encounters with others. People want to be heard: Lucy keeps it simple, responding with some form of, ’I know.’ People don’t want advice unless they ask for it: Lucy doesn’t offer any. This book, however, is not filled with silence. We hear Lucy’s thoughts; her conversation with Self, unfiltered and honest. This Thursday I will drive into Cambridge for a three night, four day silent retreat at the monastery of Saint John the Evangelist (SSJE). Along with a room with a bed, desk and easy chair, the guest quarters include a communal kitchen where I can get breakfast and snacks throughout the day, public rooms for reading and mediating, and a lovely garden. Together with the other guests, I will join the brothers for silent lunch and dinner, as well as attend the daily office (5 of them) with them. Silent retreat, yes silent. None of the guests will expect to talk with me, nor I with them. Although SSJE is a Christian (Episcopal) order, there is no formal expectation that the guests be Christian. Most, like me, are trying to follow Jesus; everyone is trying to love. After all, if I were not wanting and trying to be loving, why would ever sign up for four days of silence? I must admit that the commitment I made a couple of days ago to keep silence has been more of a challenge than I thought it would be. The talk in my mind is reasonably silent, but my out loud talk… when there’s an audience…, it has not been silent! I’ve stepped into the conversation with out realizing it. And, that is my challenge: to realize and be quiet. And yet, yesterday at breakfast with a group of like-minded friends, no one brought up the election. No rehash. We talked about books, Thanksgiving plans, and friendships. My best self left these friends feeling comforted and safe. I love this from Writings from the Philokalia on Prayer of the Heart, a collection of writing by the Fathers of the Eastern Church dating from the fourth to the fourteenth century. “Among other virtues, Abba Philemon had also the following: he could not bear other an idle word; if someone, forgetting himself, began to tell of something not concerned with profit to the soul, he never showed any response.” Of course, at social gatherings there is much conversation. We get together to share stories, to catch up on the news, to make future plans. But even when conversation is the expectation, idle words can take over. We can go on and on and on too long. We might like to hear a couple of well-chosen comments, but not an audio book about some life event. Recently I was on the receiving end of one of those long stories. The story was interesting, but the timing was off. We were gathered at the end of a presentation; niceties were appropriate before we all went on our way. I may have been rude, but I followed Abba Philemon’s advice and ‘never showed any response.’ I talk about silence often. Hmm, talking is hardly silent. When nothing is coming out of my mouth, my mind is hardly silent. But hearing no sound is a beautiful silence. Mr. Roger knew about that. In the commencement address he gave at Dartmouth College in 2002 he included a minute of silence so the audience could remember and give thanks to people who had influence them in a positive way. In his acceptance speech for the Lifetime Achievement Award he received at the Emmys in 1997, he offered ten seconds of silence. It is said that that was enough time to humble everyone in the audience and bring them to tears. |
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