When we moved to Germany, I somehow excpecgted more snow. I thought there would be buckets of it but there hasn’t been nearly as much as I expected. We’ve only had one good sledding day until last month’s snow storm that shut down the Munich International Airpot.
It had been so long since I had been in the snow that I had forgotten about the quiet. There is a hush that comes with fresh snow. The world feels full of expectation and there is a softness to it all. My ears perked up and listened with greater attention to the snowy silence.
“Silence is God's first language,” wrote the monastic and priest Thomas Keating before noting that “everything else is a poor translation. In order to hear that language, we must learn to be still and to rest in God.”
That might seem easy for a monk but we all need silence. When we are constantly bombarded by noise, our brains can’t process our surroundings. We aren’t fully paying attention. We are lost in the cacophony of sound and crave some stillness to contemplate who we are in all the noise.
As the calendar turns to a new year, it’s tempting to fill it with things. There are things to do and tasks to accomplish. There is noise that will explode around us whether or not we create it but only we can cultivate the stillness of quiet wonder. It might not be our first desire. We might be more likely to keep the TV so that we don’t feel so lonely. We might whistle while we work but we still might benefit from welcoming the quiet to listen to what we too often ignore. This month, I invite you to listen in silence.
Listen to the world around you as you drive with the radio off.
Listen through tiny observations of silence: a minute before you start your work, a minute after you eat something satisfying, a minute after reading some news that breaks your heart or a minute after a really good conversation that restores your hope.
Listen by keeping a whole day of silence.
Listen by going for a walk without earbuds to distract you from what God might be doing in the world around you.
Listen by keeping silence within the natural world.
Listen to the house settle at the end of the day while tucked under the covers.
Listen with your eyes closed so that your other senses can heighten.
Listen between the silences in conversation. Instead of rushing to respond, listen to what else you might hear from God.
Listen by sitting still with your hands in your lap ready to receive all that God might offer you.
Listen as your hand keeps busy writing morning pages.
Listen while dancing around the room.
Listen by breathing deeply.
I hope and pray you find silence woven through all of the wonders of your life this month. As you are inspired to do so, please share in the comments below your experience of embracing this quiet wonder.
As you enter into this January practice, here are some questions for reflection and prayer.
How do you welcome the silence?
What does God most want you to hear in the quiet you are sharing?
How does God meet you in the boredom?
I read this beautiful essay on the Art of Silence when it was published last year and it crept into my memory again. It’s worth a read especially if you find yourself struggling with this practice.
“When was the last time you just sat in silence with yourself and listened to what was happening?” the poet Ada Limon asks in the beginning of this conversation with Krista Tippet’s OnBeing.The episode invites us to consider all the ways quiet enters our lives through poetry.
If you are interested in spiritual direction and are interested in a first conversation with me, please reach out or go ahead and book an appointment here. I am currently welcoming new directees and would be delighted to explore the holy threads of this life with you.