Learning to Trust in “The Quiet”

“Listen to the silence. It has so much to say.” ~ Rumi

I woke up this morning and the only person I had to worry about was myself. Sure, I’d have to take the dog out for his morning constitutional, but going outdoors with Apollo is oftentimes as much a treat for me as it is a relief for him. Other than that though, my priorities were as follows: make myself a coffee, start the slow cooker, and maybe put on a bra. (Maybe I’m wearing one right now, maybe I’m not. That’s the beauty of hiding behind my computer screen. Only I know for sure.).

It’s quiet in the house. It’s nice. But it’s also a little bit unsettling. Anyone who has ever had young children has yearned for a morning like this. But at the same time, if you’ve ever had a house full of little kids and the bustle of activity suddenly turns to silence, as delightful as it might be for a moment, it’s off-putting and potentially frightening. “Oh dear lord, what have they gotten into?” And in a panic, you rush to go and check to make sure they’re ok.

I guess that’s where I’m at this morning - except it’s just me and the pooch and he’s sitting in Hal’s chair across the room, just laying there half-dozing, half-looking at me in case I drop some food on the floor.

It’s almost relaxing, but my mind and spirit won’t allow me to surrender to it. I’m not sure if I can trust it. For whatever reason, I’ve got a bit of a fight or flight response to what should otherwise be a much coveted start to the day - peaceful, easy, and as of right now, also anxiety-provoking. I’m grateful in a sense that the dog is here because he’s company and at some point he’s going to need me for something.

It’s not that I’m full of worry or regret. I’ve raised my children, I’ve had a community of helpers and family members to support me in the initiative, and now the kids are grown and gone and basically self-sufficient. Whether by good luck or good management (and I think there is an element of both), they’re good people. I’m very proud. I’m very fortunate and I hope they think so too.

Without question, there are things I wish I’d done differently, that I’d had more patience, that I hadn’t been in such a rush to have a morning like this. Then again, perhaps because of how things have played out, or even in spite of my flaws, here we are. There’s no turning back.

The same can be said for my “career”. I’ve more years of service behind me than I do in front of me. This is also a nice feeling, but it’s also a little bit daunting. It’s time to make a plan, maybe make some changes, see what the next chapter may present.

Which brings me back to this moment…

The sun is beginning to shine through the clouds, offering the promise of brightness and warmth to come. Perhaps a long walk is in order or maybe some time on the deck to count my blessings would be a good way to hear what the silence has to share. Or maybe I could just sit here, sip my coffee, listen to the classic country tunes that play in the background in harmony with the tossing of the laundry in the dryer, and just breathe, just “trust that the universe is unfolding as it should” without my guidance or participation.

It’s tricky.

Relaxation and giving myself permission to embrace it, as it turns out, may be a learned behaviour. At this stage in my life, I find myself a student.

Silence may be golden, but trust is earned.

Be gentle with me, silence. We can dance. For today’s first waltz, though, I may need for you to let me lead. Let’s try not to step on one another’s toes.