The days are so loud, so messy, so jarring and downright exhausting.
My mind whirrs and whirrs, like an Energizer Bunny jazzed on Espresso beans, unable to stop going-going-going.
My body races at a thousand miles an hour and my heart follows suit.
I forget who I am.
And then the silence comes.
I always think it won’t. That it’s forgotten me.
But like a loyal lover, my darling silence comes back and settles into my heart like it’s always been there. Like it belongs there.
As it rolls through me like a salty wave, I find a split-second of peace. Of not-trying-so-hard-ness. Of just-being-ness. Of just-me-ness.
I remember who I am.
The steady drizzles of succulent quietude melt my cares, turning them into caramel. It’s not that they’re gone; they’re just dialed down for a magic moment, transformed into something sweeter for a second.
I need that sweetness.
Because life can feel so bitter and unrelenting, a raining parade of exhausting madness.
Work harder, they say. Go faster, they say. Do more, they say. Be more, they say.
Bullsh*t.
Be more here, my soul whispers softly.
Be. More. Here.
Right now, I remember.
I’m more here.
The silence sinks in, slowly feeding my starving soul and watering the dry, thirsty grass in my spirit.
I’m more here.
I slow down long enough to experience the luscious thrill of a lavender tangerine sunset and take deep breaths of prolonged steadiness.
Then, I forget. I lose myself in oceans of worries and bouncing vibrations of crowded conversations.
And then the silences comes again.
This time, I savor it, letting it crush me deliciously.
And, I remember—I remember who I am.
Relephant:
The 2 sides of Silence: How it Fosters or Breaks Relationships.
Author: Sarah Harvey
Editor: Renée Picard
Image: author’s own
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