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The Goddess Speaks
What does silence sound like? I don't mean the 16th-note rests in life's symphony; I mean those extended pauses between movements, the kind that settle deep inside and focus the sounds that come before and after. Heeding the
sound of silenceThere was a time I could answer that question, and I carried the inner peace of silence with me. Whenever life got too hectic, I turned off the lights, lay down on the floor and let all the noise drain out. But for the past 10 years, I've been the mother of two small boys, and silence isn't part of that deal. Now when I lie down, I fall asleep in three seconds flat.
This spring, my husband and I decided we had enough of the telegraphing that passes for communicating, of existing on rag-tag ends of time left over, of reading and thinking in mini-bytes. The kids were old enough. Grandpa and Grandma were young enough. It was time.
We set up a week away for just the two of us. A whole week! What on earth would we do with all that time? No TV, no computer, no interruptions. Think of all we could get done!
Some friends were envious; others thought we were putting our marriage in jeopardy. We went anyway. And didn't tell anyone how to reach us.
Of course, we didn't go far, just to a little house by the beach on the other side of the island. We took along books to read, family photos to work on, weights for getting in shape.
WE were industrious those first few days: walking the beach at dawn, talking intently, reading obsessively, slapping photos into albums like there was no tomorrow ... Time's short, y'know? Never know when the grandparents might call for relief.
But then, something happened. No one interrupted. We didn't get up at dawn. Meals degenerated into when-I-feel-like-it snacks. Books dropped mid-chapter. Photo album pages lay unfinished on the table. We lost track of days and forgot we'd brought projects to do. The weights gathered dust.
Instead, we discovered that sunlight changes color as the day ages. Footprints linger in sand, even after a wave washes them away. I can still body surf! Rain clouds still crawl up the Ko'olaus and creep over the peaks. Stillness is inside, not out. Days, wind and water have their own shifting rhythms, which we can struggle against or dance with. Sitting quietly together is as nice as talking.
And, oh yes ... silence isn't silent. It is filled with whispered breezes, creaking joists, distant cars and planes, breathing, heartbeats, life ...
Ruth O. Bingham is a free-lance symphony
reviewer for the Star-Bulletin.
The Goddess Speaks runs every Tuesday
and is a column by and about women, our strengths, weaknesses,
quirks and quandaries. If you have something to say, write it and
send it to: The Goddess Speaks, the Honolulu Star-Bulletin, P.O.
Box 3080, Honolulu, 96802, or send e-mail
to features@starbulletin.com.