Silence Still Speaks
If you’ve ever wondered if you were an extrovert or introvert, let me tell you, 5 days at a silent retreat is a great test. I can confirm: I am an extrovert.
The very first question I asked upon arrival was “So, I really can’t talk to anyone? Like, I’m supposed to be silent?” To which the worker replied a simple “Yes.” There were signs that declared SILENCE everywhere I looked, serving as a constant reminder for forgetful people like me.
The silence at this place was piercing. You could hear every rustle of a leaf, every buzz of a bee. You could hear the waves crashing, even from the top of the hill where we stayed, with miles stretched in between. At first, it was honestly a bit freaky and completely uncomfortable. But eventually, I stumbled upon a newfound love for this silence.
My mom tells stories about when I was a kid. We’d often take road trips from Iowa City to Chicago to visit my grandma. She told me that I’d talk the whole way. Non-stop for four and a half hours. I remember having the time of my life. She remembered leaving the car feeling braindead. It makes a lot of sense now why we always played The Quiet Game on those trips. And even more sense why I never seemed to win and my brothers always walked away with the prize of quarters.
My first day of the retreat was kinda the same thing. I talked to myself. Sang little songs out loud. Blurted out random sounds. I felt like a toy with a broken battery, completely malfunctioning — Can’t. Turn. Off. MUST. TALK. But by day two, I had already settled in a bit. Gotten some flinches out. I began to find rest in the stillness. Joy in the silence. A freedom that came from not having to fill space.
I heard a quote recently “There’s all the difference in the world between having something to say, and having to say something.” Ugh… guilty! I hate to admit it, but the latter is often me. I do love to talk.
But this time away has shown me what can unfold when I give silence the main stage: Peace. Creativity. Revelation. Wisdom. Hope. Growth. There is a sacrifice, an offering, in silence that our world has lost sight of. In the silence, we hear best. Not what the world shouts, but what our spirit softly speaks.
We’ll see how long this revelation will stick with me. Or how quickly I’ll backslide right into the hustle, bustle, and noise of this world. But this week I’m going to challenge myself and invite you, to sit and make room for silence to speak. Pushing past the discomfort, and stretching yourself a bit longer, to taste and see what beauty silence can bring.
