One late night it snuck up on me, catching me unaware.
I had been sitting, mind wandering as I read a book of inspiration. Not even truly paying attention. It was one of those times that I had to keep telling myself to pay attention to the words on the page because I kept reading the same sentence over and over again.
I don’t know what that sentence was but it must have been a good one to reread.
Because, all of a sudden, I put down the book. I stood up and walked into my bedroom and just stopped. I looked at my gently lit bedroom, with the blanket like sheets folded down ready for me to slide into.
I turned my head to the shuttered window that separates me from the tree panoply outside. I heard the sweet summer melody of the tree frogs that only us country girls know the tune of.
Then my eyes kept casting around to this sweet, darling apartment that I had put together on my own. A product of my love, pain, tears, heartbreak, joy, and growth. A place that symbolized me, through every stage: raw, beautiful, and honest.
There were no electronic distractions. No TV on in the other room, no music coming from my blue tooth speakers, no phone dinging to catch my attention.
All I heard was the background noise of the tree frogs and the wonderful, yes I said wonderful, silence of being alone.
It was a glorious nothing sound to my ears.
Of months of needing distractions and noise to get me through the day-to-day, I had finally harnessed the silence again.
The silence that signifies peace, acceptance, understanding, grace, love, and pure being. The silence that calms the soul when the outside world is banging around begging for attention. The silence that protects and rebuilds us.
The silence that reminds us that we are okay. No, we are better than okay. That we are strong, whole, pure, good, and oh-so lovely in every way. The silence that seems to blanket the world in a beautiful white silk sheet, blowing gracefully around us, effortlessly making it a beautiful place.
The silence that really just is the being of life.
I had regained my being.
I wasn’t just wishing for my being, pretending I was okay but still needing my noise. I wasn’t forcefully saying the silence was good, that I wanted it – when it wasn’t truly even there. It was my being quietly reclaiming itself, on its own time and terms. No force, no fancy introduction.
It was the silence that just crept upon me late one Monday night. The silence that hugged me like no one else can hug you. The silence that swept me up in its arms and whispered in my ear, “I’m here, my child. I love you. I’ve got you. You can just let go and lean into me.”
The silent tears of happiness slowly, oh so slowly, slid down my cheeks. First right, then left, bubbling over my eyelids. I leave them and let them take their own course, accepting them for what they are. For in their own way they are part of this beautiful silence.
There will be times of raucous chaos again. Times where the silence is covered up by a hailstorm of emotion. Except now I truly, truly know that the silence is within me, ready with open arms and comforting caresses. I know it is there and I can slip into it, feel its embrace, and know that I really, truly am okay. That I am darling. That I am my true being, right here, right now.
I know now that the silence is enough. That it truly means, it truly shows me, that I am enough. No splashy, distracting noise needed.