It’s cold and blustery this morning - about 15 degrees Fahrenheit. The sun hasn’t quite made it up over the hill to the east of our house. No one is up.
I look out over the backyard and see that the wind has pulled open one of the barn doors. It’s tilted at a funny angle which means it probably will need a hinge repair.
The squirrels and birds must all be hidden away in their nests. Not a trace of life out there. Only the wind, blowing snow across the yard. At times I can see it swirl.
There’s something about that winter landscape - the silence of it. A silence big enough to hold the mystery and holiness of the season.
It’s easy enough to forget - what with all the hustling we do this time of year: hustling to get somewhere, hustling for the best deal, hustling to check one more thing off our list.
We fill the gaps, the moments that could hold silence, with more doing, more hustling, so that there are no gaps, no pauses, like a malfunctioning alarm that won’t shut off.
That’s the cultural milieu that we find ourselves in, anyway.
So, we have to make a conscious effort to step out of that hustle, to make friends with silence, to be still long enough to notice our warm, breathing bodies, still enough to notice what gratitude feels like, still enough to notice the longing in our hearts, still enough to recognize our “place in the family of things.”
How might you make friends with silence today?
I look out over the backyard and see that the wind has pulled open one of the barn doors. It’s tilted at a funny angle which means it probably will need a hinge repair.
The squirrels and birds must all be hidden away in their nests. Not a trace of life out there. Only the wind, blowing snow across the yard. At times I can see it swirl.
There’s something about that winter landscape - the silence of it. A silence big enough to hold the mystery and holiness of the season.
It’s easy enough to forget - what with all the hustling we do this time of year: hustling to get somewhere, hustling for the best deal, hustling to check one more thing off our list.
We fill the gaps, the moments that could hold silence, with more doing, more hustling, so that there are no gaps, no pauses, like a malfunctioning alarm that won’t shut off.
That’s the cultural milieu that we find ourselves in, anyway.
So, we have to make a conscious effort to step out of that hustle, to make friends with silence, to be still long enough to notice our warm, breathing bodies, still enough to notice what gratitude feels like, still enough to notice the longing in our hearts, still enough to recognize our “place in the family of things.”
How might you make friends with silence today?
 | Jessica Curtis is a professional coach who helps people cultivate intention and live from a place of meaning and authenticity. If you think you could benefit from working with Jessica or want to invite her to work with your group, reach out to start a conversation. |
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