Sacred Silence

I must say I was most likely one of those people who often felt the need to fill the silence. Fill it with words, activity, noise, whatever was needed. Silence used to seem rather awkward. When I was teaching, I learned that we must give "think time" to students when asking a question. At least three seconds, was the rule! Give a student "think time", what a concept!! Sometimes, when I would call on a student, those three seconds would seem to drag on and on, especially when others who knew the answer were waving hands and trying to be called upon to give the appropriate response. Still, I tried to teach them to honor the silence and let the called upon student THINK!

I have come to know, honor, and embrace the silence. I no longer feel the need to fill it like I once did. I understand that it is necessary in life, through the joys, the sadness, the living, the healing, the dying. There is a time to speak, and there is a time to remain silent, and I am learning a lot about both.

Coming from a person who enjoys talking, listening, socializing, teaching, well, silence can be daunting. Could be, at least, until Allison died. Then silence became the shadow, the constant companion, the pain, the brokenness that no words, activity, social activity, or sound could fix or change. Silence. I came to know it all too well. It came in the form of friends and family NOT knowing what to say and me assuring them that saying nothing at all was just fine. There were no words, anyway, that could be said. Nothing could fill the empty chamber, and if truth be known, still cannot. Yes, I do find myself in social situations, now, and even early on, but mostly ones orchestrated by myself, or ones I can tip toe in and out of easily, in case...in case the emotion becomes too strong. In case I break down. In case there is a trigger that brings me to my knees, or a flashback, or a memory. God knows how painful it is to do some of the things we/I have done, to fill the silence, when it would be so much "easier" to just stay in the hollowness of no sounds.

Even early on, there was nothing that could fill the gaps. I rode in the car for months without music, without noticing the sounds around me, the cars, the noises, the bus stopping outside my house. I knew the phone was ringing but I couldn't really hear it. I heard the conversations but I couldn't differentiate the words, sounds, meaning, vocabulary. It all sounded the same. I didn't want to go near it. I didn't want to hear anything, I simply didn't know how to exist. Over time, however, I could turn the music on, and participate in conversations, go to a movie, attend a gathering, or turn on the television.

I now find that what I term sacred silence is part of my day. I must shut off the sounds. I know there are moments, or hours, when time is best served in silence. The silence is my familiar companion, now, and for whatever life hands me, the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, I must learn to embrace it in silence.

Silence is golden, so I have heard. I understand that, now. I no longer feel the need to fill it. I honor it, I embrace it, I choose it over noise any time! It's in the silence that I can learn more about who I am, pray to the divine one and let go of all that burdens me, reflect, write, capture, and dream. The silence has taught me so much. It is sacred and pure. It is often my first choice. It was brought about by tragedy, I have no need to fill it up. I can accept it and just BE. In it, I am closer to God, to Allison, and hopefully, closer to healing the broken heart that beats within. Silence has taught me to live life, to make choices, to follow the spirit within, and to honor myself. The silence of this day, and these times, is sacred. I will honor it at all costs, and not try to change it. I will treasure it as I do any gift I am given, and I will be thankful for it.