SILENCE needs to be FELT, not FILLED.

When I shared these words on social media, several wanted a bit of an explanation.

This pandemic has been months that have stolen nearly a year, but it feels like months that have stolen a life. 

Much of what I’ve loved filling my life with has been silenced this year. 

I found myself, on more occasions than this introvert desires, trying to fill that silence. I’ve discovered that I might be the queen of running the gambit of tv and social media platforms in search of something captivating, but for me it’s easier to do with a novel. I’m on the sixth novel of an eight-novel series with the average number of pages in each book being about 12,000. Did I mention this is my second time reading through them? Because I supposed I had the time, I even challenged myself and tapped the keyboard to write my own 60,000 words. 

I’ve designed an Amazon, I mean amazing, igloo in the garage from the boxes delivered to my house over this pandemic that rivals the abominable snowman’s.  

When sick of hearing myself, Lee Brice’s and Tim McGraw’s new music crooned in my ear, filling an inspiration vacuum and drowning out the incessant “breaking” news from the same political and pandemic reels fracturing the airspace and my equilibrium.

So, basically the silence has been filled with music and words.

Yet, here is the truth. Even when surrounded by all this noise, the silence still envelopes me, at times.  

This pandemic silence has been emptying because silence can be that way.

Silence is dark.

Silence is loss.

Silence is missing out.

Silence is a valley.

Silence is lonely.

Silence is desolate.

Silence is fretting.

Silence is fear.

Silence is misunderstood.

Silence is weariness.

Silence is tears.

Silence is waiting.

But when I still to feel the silence instead of filling it, something pierces the darkness, awakening the beauty beyond the sorrow of the silence.

Like a rose embowered in its green leaves, silence reveals deeper truths.

That’s when this pandemic silence can be hopeful and enlightening because silence can be that way. 

Silence is sacred.

Silence is patience.

Silence is renewal.

Silence is a filling.

Silence is peace.

Silence is a clarity.

Silence is clearing.

Silence is stillness.

Silence is a refuge.

Silence is reflection.

Silence is exultation.

Silence is freeing the spirit.

Silence is the gift of being present.  

Silence is a purposed choice.

Silence is slowing the speed of life.

Silence is trusting an unknown.

Silence is the soul’s ability to hear hope.

 

The sorrow over what has been silenced during this pandemic is real, but I’m reminded that while I cannot avoid or substitute for the silence, I can embrace it, stilling me to feel its beauty.