In a quiet space

I'm a talker. I talk about things, I ruminate and I discuss, I ponder and I chatter. I wonder out loud. But there are those times when I feel maybe it's best just to be quiet. When talking doesn't help. When doing doesn't help. When even thinking doesn't help. I may not have many of those times of yearning for stillness, but when I do, I need to give in.

My instinct in most cases is to fight and be strong, to persuade and to motivate, to speak up and speak out. So when I am faced with the possibility and the need for quiet, it is hard for me to accept and harder still for me to implement.

But what I think I need to realize is that I can't always  be on guard, I can't always be the first one out of the gate, I can't always be ready for battle. Sometimes it's better to sit in a quiet space, to silence my voice, to calm my nerves; to listen to the world around me, to the wind or the leaves, to the cars and the rain, to others near me and voices far away.

Because in the end there is always the quiet. Before I sleep, before a big case, before a difficult conversation or a joyous reunion, before all of that is a time of nothingness, of space, of expansive silence. And it's in those moments that I can fully appreciate the experience yet to come, the anticipation of what may be. It's in those times of not talking that I can fully hear myself and others.

This is the time of year that is perfect for that experience- in the fall as the weather cools, as we gather inside and gather around, as we bring our loved ones close, as we huddle all together, the talking is nice, but the being is even better. To be with someone and just sit, is maybe the fullest expression of acceptance and of love. So today I will try to embrace the quiet and be appreciative for all the times ahead that are filled with sound, because there is always time for talking, and not always time to just listen.

After all, this is the life.