Silence is my favorite thing
My four year old daughter and I were driving to a birthday party last weekend. Out of habit, as we pulled out of our neighborhood, I said to her, “Wanna listen to the radio?” It was kind of a rhetorical question because I had already pressed the car radio button on. She responded, “No! I want silence.” I paused at the stop sign leaving our neighborhood. The place where our little 250 house world of neighbors and friends meets the world at large. I turned off the radio and took a deep breath in and out.
“Silence is my favorite thing,” she said.
Aaaah. Oh sweet girl, me too. Silence is my favorite thing too.
We pulled out of our neighborhood and drove up the hill where the trees turn to wide open farmland. Green upon green. Peaceful panorama. This is why we moved here.
We left LA with an intention to slow down. To find more space to spread out. To return to the seasons among which my husband and I had both grown up. To be driving distance to family. To have less people and cars and buildings and billboards. To have more silence.
Hearing my daughter know herself so well at four years old is such a gift. And my gift to her, again and again and everyday, will be encouraging her to stay true to that knowing. That silence is her favorite thing. It’s truly my favorite thing too.
As an artist, writer and dreamer, I thrive in silence. It’s where I empty out and fill up. Filling up with peace. Letting my nervous system, breathing, heart rate and inner nature all return to their natural state. My true north is in silence. I am part introvert. I hesitate using that word because so many people do not understand it. To me, it means I recharge when I am alone. I connect with my energy again by being alone. Then I am ready to be with people again. I love people. I cannot love them when I am around them ALL. THE. TIME.
In this chapter of life, I’ve been playing a tricky game with silence. Judging myself for needing and wanting and craving so much of it. Feeling like I never get enough of it no matter how much I get. And then filling up my possible silent time with not-silent things like phone scrolling or to do items. Like that moment in the silent car with my daughter when I turned on the radio. Thankfully I had a sage with me, buckled into her carseat, to remind me of my true north.
A little silence goes a long way. A lot of silence goes even farther.
My children are my teachers. My daughter is my reminder of how vital silence is to the natural order or things. Her natural order and mine.
When I did altMBA this February, one of our cohort meetings began with a question. We all typed our responses into the Zoom as a chat waterfall. I wrote the first thought that came to my mind. The question: “What brings you joy?” My immediate response: “Silence.”
I half cringed at myself for admitting that. There’s something in our society that doesn’t celebrate silence. The coaches called on me to share. As I started talking I fell into the knowing and truth of why I had written silence in the first place. I saw several knowing glances through the Zoom gallery. I felt seen. Even better, I felt true.
My intention is to connect with even more silence. Next level will be connecting to the silence even where and when there is noise. To honor my need for silence and space no matter who I am with and no matter what their relationship with silence is. And to create space for others to find silence too. To be a guide for those who are afraid of silence or for those who resist it by unknowingly filling up their time, like I sometimes find myself doing.
Silence is a gift and a treasure.
What’s your relationship with silence?