Sometimes silence calls. It sits you down and shuts you up. But we are never really quiet, nope. The mind is always moving, even when we are asleep. Dreaming, thinking, working it out.
Sometimes it’s space that shows up. That would be your heart asking for room to spread it’s wings a little. The heart, is another one thats never silent. Always growing, always thumping on.
Sometimes it’s in the face of loved ones that asks for quiet. They just need to be with their thoughts. They need space. But me, I never go away. I’ve just learned the skill of talking idly beside them, about every unimportant thing that can easily be ignored. This is something I’ve come to find brings great ease to those in pain. I am white noise. Never quiet.
Sometimes, nothing calls to you at all. And thats the very reason for your hushed nature. To hold up a mirror and see stillness is a beautiful thing for us always in movement. The strong silent type is something I’ve always appreciated but never been. But so many people are uncomfortable with this. Silent women are, after all, labeled snobby and bitches. What is this issue with quiet? Why can’t we be still? Why is there this constant need to strive, text back, post, like, comment, tag, retweet, we are constantly scrolling, never still, never silent.
So in July, I fell somewhat quiet, I pulled away and my heart stretched wide open. And when you are quiet, you hear all the noise. The swish of the days, the whirl of the sun and the moon, the cheers of celebration, the gurgle of coffee greeting you each and every day, the birds, the trees, the bees, every cliche I can roll out here. Indeed, I leaned again the journey of silence and the path you get to follow in the stillness of space. In July, I withheld, I watched, I read, I played with flowers, I scaled a fish, I watched the clouds, I walked through lava fields, I jumped from a cliff, into a sea. Sometimes I observed myself in horror at who I have become, other times I pat myself on the back for doing the best I can. I felt my life lived, throbbing, through a quieted mind and against the beat of a constantly thumping heart.
(Here we come, August!)