The Silence Before the Storm

Most people now a days are most uncomfortable in silence. They can’t stand it. There always has to be some kind of sound or they lose their minds.

Go out into public and see how many people are wearing headphones. How many people have their phone and speaker phone in public or in offices.

But I love it.

Don’t get me wrong. I love music. It fills my soul. I love hearing laughter and conversation, especially of those I love the most. I love hearing Shane and my daughters banter in the living room, being silly. I’d love it more if they were up and doing something together, but banter is nice.

But quiet fills me with a peace. It settles my nerves.

I feel it in the lightening of my shoulders. I hold them so tight during the day and when it’s quiet, they just slowly release.

When they do, my chest relaxes as if I’ve undone the laces of a corset, and I can breathe. Deep into my belly before I release it out again.

My favorite moments are watching storms roll in. I love watching them build on the horizon, feel the air shift. The smells change and become more earthy as if even the ground prepares to receive the sky’s gifts. The critters call to one another, seeking safety or just protection from the wet.

Sometimes, I don’t like where my mind goes. I tend to think on all the things I didn’t do well enough. In my mind, there are very few things I do well or well enough. In the early morning silences, I’m awakened with the long list of things I didn’t do right or did just plain wrong.

But in the silence of oncoming storms, all I see is promise. Things grow after storms. I mean, sure. There are sometimes paths of destruction left behind, but then things grow.

I long for the silence of an oncoming storm. My soul begs for it. My heart yearns for it.

My mind creates what I cannot experience.