Our house is quiet. Sometimes it’s a lonely “waiting for adoption” sort of quiet, but most of the time it’s a soothing quiet. And I soak it up. Just the other day, I spent nearly four hours in consecutive silence. It was heart-binding. It was immense. It was effortless. It was convenient.

And it sort of serendipitously happened.

I didn’t wake up that morning demanding silence. I didn’t put it on my little to-do list. And I didn’t consciously enter into it. In fact, I didn’t know I was in the presence of silence until it was being removed from me, phone call by car radio by office-work, like the unwrapping of a warm soothing blanket.

My soul had been blanketed in silence for the morning, leaving me with a strong sense of self-awareness and Shalom. I could almost hear my soul speak soft quiet soulish words. Almost.

Given another hour or so, I suspect that my soul would’ve spoken. Words would’ve flown from my hands. Art would’ve dripped from my fingertips. Truth would’ve been whispered from deep within me.

So I muted the radio in an effort to save what little silence remained. I breathed in and out the air of oxygen-rich transcendance. I felt small but safe. Secure.

I’ve made effort to reclaim the quiet spaces of my life, enter into them with intention and care. I look for those pockets of my week that might go uninterrupted and still. I place myself in them. I rest. I reflect.

And I know that soon my world will be filled with the sound of giggles and potty emergencies and little feet and peanut-butter sandwiches. I know the sounds around me will soon shift, and I wonder how I’m going to find that silence that my soul craves?

How do you find silence? Or does It find you?

what we really need is “nothing.”

by Mandy Thompson time to read: 2 min