Saturday, October 03, 2009

Quiet. My Dad used to sit out on the patio at night in the summer. He just sat, and smoked. I would know he was there in the dark by the ember of his cigarette. He would just sit, and think. He liked the quiet of the a summer night. Occasionally, he would sit out there all night. This is strange, because when he was raging he was very much heard all over our part of the neighborhood. When enraged, he was a terror. But when quiet, he really liked the quiet. I don't get much quiet these days. I am too busy. And there isn't anywhere I go where it is quiet. I detest being alone, too, which precludes much quiet. But I see its value. Daughter Susanna says she likes the concept at least, of the Quaker quiet time. They sit in quiet until someone stands up and starts ranting about something political. But if no one is ranting, it is quiet and she likes that. When I get quiet, there is a ringing in my ears. And a ringing in my spirit--I think that is why I have always liked C.S. Lewis' Woods Between the Worlds in the Chronicles of Narnia. I think it was exceedingly still there. Some quiet in my spirit, and stillness, would be nice...

1 comment:

Sandy said...

I too have always loved the wood between the worlds and have thought of it as a place of silence. My wife and I do attempt from time to time to sit on our porch and hear the sounds of evening, like the breeze in the leaves, the birds or crickets, etc. And these are healing sounds. Then some neighbor guns his car motor, or the kids come out clamoring for dinner to be served... and --poof-- the wood between the worlds is gone!