Rainbow – Photo: L. Weikel
All’s Quiet
I’m sitting here in the silence of my living room (if you don’t count the snoring of Sheila and Precious) – and it is exquisitely delicious.
Karl and I took a walk tonight, once I finally got home from doing some errands. The sky had a smattering of clouds, but we could still see a vast array of stars splashed from one horizon to the other. What we really noticed the most, though, was how quiet everything was.
It almost felt as though we were walking during a snowstorm. You know, that muffled silence that always accompanies falling or freshly fallen snow? In fact, I just read something about that the other day. The muffling of ambient noise is attributed to the fluffiness of the snow, I think – the air trapped between the flakes.
I don’t know; I can’t really remember. It doesn’t actually matter, since snow was not the cause of the quiet tonight. Perhaps it was the sound of people starting to slow down, to take a breather from the inevitable frantic pace that precedes this time of year in particular.
What We Really Want
It’s easy to pick on the materialism of our society and criticize the obligation so many people feel to give gifts to ‘everyone on their list.’ We’re a consumptive society. It’s been ingrained in us all our lives that the way to show someone you care about or love them is to buy them something. And even worse is when people equate the depth of the love to the cost of the gifts.
We’re bombarded from every direction with messages barking at us that this widget or that doodad will make the difference. We’ll know we’re loved or, perhaps even more importantly, we’ll know we’ve made it (or at least tell ourselves we have) if we can give that impressive doodad. And if we can’t? Well. Many feel an overwhelming desire to fake it – and there are lots of ways to fake it.
But I think the real burden is the desire to express heartfelt caring and not knowing, really, how to give that feeling. How do we go about bringing light into someone’s life?
Maybe it’s by sitting quietly and figuring out what would bring light into our own life. Maybe it’s by listening to what our heart is saying over and over and over again – hoping that one day we’ll actually stop and listen.
Time
As we were walking in the starlight this evening, Karl and I talked yet again about having – or, rather, not having – gifts to give each other this year. Neither one of us wants for anything. We are surrounded by an abundance of comfort; indeed, we have too many ‘things,’ if we’re honest. And we have zero desire to buy stuff just because – whether it’s because we don’t want to or because it’s expected.
We don’t need new clothes. In truth, we don’t need anything that can be bought in a store (besides groceries; we do love to eat). Even the most exotic boutique of hand-crafted amazingness would fail to provide the gift that is most precious to both of us. And that is time. Time together. Time to create. Time to read. Time to listen to music. Time to feed our souls. Time to allow ourselves to stop thinking about selling or buying or going to meetings or paying the bills, but instead to stop thinking altogether.
Our greatest gift to each other is making – and taking – time to walk under the stars and listen to the silence. Time to notice and appreciate the quiet, together.
(T-704)