I’ve spent a lot of time at home recently.
I’ve spent a lot of time at home and I’ve found myself making a whole load of new choices.
Lots of ‘what will I do today’ choices.
It’s because I get much less pressure from external sources, these days.
So I have more time.
And more freedom.
One rather mundane sounding choice that I make each day.
Is what music to listen to.
Or indeed, whether to listen to any music at all.
And that means I very often experience much more of something that I’ve not considered too much in the past.
Silence is such a nice thing.
And I realised just this week.
That experiencing more silence than usual has taught me three things.
First, it has taught me to be grateful for the space that silence gives me.
The space to think.
To breathe more slowly.
To just wait.
Wait for the right thought.
The right idea.
Or the right resolution.
The second thing that experiencing more silence has taught me.
Is to be grateful for the sounds in my life.
The crackle of the fire.
The comforting, far-off hum of the radio in the kitchen.
And even Izobel’s often incessant chatter.
As well as Colin’s spontaneous and purposeless barking.
I have grown folder of them all.
I have grown fonder of the contrast.
The third thing that a new focus on.
And a new love of silence has taught me.
Is that if I chose to break this rather beautiful thing called silence in the future.
With some words or another.
They’d better be words worth listening to.
For the other person I mean.
Because silence really is a very lovely thing.
And the last thing anyone needs.
Is for it to be broken and ruined by the likes of me.
Without a bloody good reason for doing so.