My quest for quiet began with my daughter. I won't be the first parent who knows that there is little quite like the seconds of silence that succeed the settling, amidst the limbo hours. It is in these snatched moments, slightly before we acknowledge the day's defeats, that we may embrace both the triumph of impending sleep and potential of all that is to come. These shards of the dazzling are what lead us on, make us want to get up again.
The nights of broken sleep have long passed and yet I see the symphony in silence with increased regularity. Just as I acknowledge the beauty in the wilderness I always loathed, I see the beauty in the error of my ways. I can no longer sit down and work to a backdrop of noise, as the tangential thoughts that are my close companions neglect to drop by and the words falter. This is clearly not an unwelcome evolution. It isn't as if someone has hit a definitive mute button to a world I want to indulge in, and I appreciate that I can still make this choice. I acknowledge those that can't.
But I also remain surprised at the silence I reach for, given my skill at eking out the chaos in my former lives. Is this the stage marker grabbed on the slalom descent to aged behaviour? Or is it just a nod to someone who, at last, recognises her own consciousness, greets it as a friend? Are my Quaker roots coming back for a timely visit? I propose a step back into the company of silence to consider. And you?
A large part of the inspiration for this post was taken from the great quotes on Miss Whistle's infinitely wise and informed blog.
Well written, never knew that silence can be so beautiful. thanks for the post. please visit my blog if you have a moment, from one divorcee to another.
ReplyDeleteForgot to leave my blog address, which actually now feels lucky as my posts feel raw and juvenile next to this piece. But oh well, here it is: http://oneblessingaday.blogspot.com/
ReplyDeleteLovely, how I agree with you; a crying baby really makes you appreciate silence. Xx
ReplyDeleteSaw a really interesting programme last week about a group of people sitting with silence for a week and learning- alongside a priest- what treasure there can be in silence. Several of them spoke about having heard a very clear voice in the silence, but none were willing to call this anything like 'god'. I first appreciated the silence of Quaker meeting as a young and harassed mother, but have come to experience it as restorative in a stressy world, at any time.
ReplyDeleteI think perhaps it was Cyril Connolly who first started my obsession with 'bon mots.' Some people frown on them as being awfully lowbrow but I don't care, they make my days more meaningful, so I'm awfully glad that you found them useful too. Thank you for your kind words about my blog. It is most heartening to know that their are like minds and similar souls out there in the big old blogosphere.
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Oh and PS More Poetry Please.
Yes, more poetry please.
ReplyDeleteShopgirl; thank you so much for your lovely words, I'm extremely flattered and thank you for introducing me to your blog, it's always lovely to meet new friends in the blogosphere x
ReplyDeleteHelena; oh but how?! x
SW; I'm coming round to your way of thinking!
MW; it is indeed heartening, I take much from snippets of meaningful and like you care not for the snobbery of 'lowbrow/highbrow'! I'll take what I can get in the madness of the minutiae. Perhaps I may have found something for a new poem there... xx
A great post. Beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteThank you Jackie.
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