Peace in Quiet

The quiet makes me uncomfortable, and sometimes blank space seems scary.

I think from the time I was little I felt a need, or responsibility, to fill space. When the conversation died, I would talk. About nothing mostly, but words definitely came out.

When my coat pockets were empty, I would stuff them with scribbled on paper – nonsense affectionately referred to as “projects.” I even remember a situation when mom’s old purse [that I used to tote around] wasn’t full so I packed it with plums from the neighbor’s tree. Everyone loved that idea months later when the plums were still around.

Old habits die hard (though no plums at present, promise!). It’s hard to sit still without music, without TV, without friends or family, without work, without social media, without distractions. I feel like I should be saying something, doing something. Always something.

The practice of not filling every square inch of space in the calendar, or looking forward to “the next thing” in each moment is not easy. Allowing room in the margins of life is hard.

Hard because we might end up alone with ourselves. No distractions, no excuses. Just who we are and who we want to be. Reflections on what we’ve done and what we ought to do. How’s that for dramatic?

But seriously, the floodgates open and the deep thoughts and unanswered questions rush in.

I’m not able to fully find peace in everyday stillness yet. It’s easier when you’re on top of a mountain, or laying in the sand. Those seem like appropriate places to be “all in” or to “ponder purpose.”  But not when you’re in the middle of the ordinary, where everything is the same except you’re not moving. Or talking. Or filling. It’s hard to show up for the scary stillness in mid-week chaos.

Tonight was quiet. Tomorrow night probably won’t be. But right now I have tea and a candle close by. There are fireflies dancing around my window and there’s total silence. There’s no pressure to produce anything or be anyone other than myself. And all I need to consider is who I was made to be.

Everything that seems so all-consuming fades away.

I’m writing this down mainly so I don’t forget – there is relief in the quiet, unfilled, and totally blank moments. They are still scary, but only until the peace shows up. Then they are worth it. So leave some space!

P.S. Sometimes when I reread myself, I’m like…what a jumbled mess of a million half-baked ramblings! Phew. SO I think the real takeaway is chill out sometimes and drink tea – it’s good for the soul!