Silence.

When is the last time you spent 10 minutes in silence? What about an hour? Or a day?

That’s what I did on Sunday afternoon. 

I didn’t have a plan to turn off all of the sounds and head out by myself. I just knew I wanted to go for a long walk. If I was going to walk for a few hours, why not do it at a beautiful state park that’s just an hour away?

I love walking by myself. It’s my time to sink into an audiobook, binge a good podcast or keep time with my favorite playlist while I pound out the miles. But going to Starved Rock feels like a family event or something to be shared with a friend. 

On this day, I knew I needed to go alone. 

And I couldn’t wait to fill my brain with some good content on the drive and the hike. I grabbed my airpods, and I was ready to go.

***

A few minutes into the drive, my phone started glitching. It would play a few sentences of my audiobook, then start over. I listened to the same paragraph 10 times. Then it started reading in 2x speed, then 3x. Back and forth, faster and faster.

I closed out the app and tried to decide on my entertainment for the drive. Music? A podcast? A different book?

What about silence? 

***

I often equate being alone with being quiet. I mean, sure. I might be filling my head with noise, but at least I’m not talking, right?

Earlier that morning during church, the pastor had told us he was going to give us a gift. The gift was one minute of silence. I don’t think it was actually silent. I seem to remember a piano playing something softly in the background. I also remember that I had barely been able to quiet my thoughts before the minute was up.

I was just starting to enjoy the silence when, “Bam!” Back to sound and activity.

***

It made me realize I’ve been actively avoiding silence for the past week. 

I’ve been processing through some hard conversations. They sent me into a spiral of feeling misunderstood. (My greatest fear!)

I tried quieting this constant internal dialogue with noise. I desperately searched for light-hearted audiobooks, interesting podcasts or upbeat music. I could barely make it through a chapter or a song before I skipped to something else. I’ve avoided the briefest moment of silence. I’ve even been playing audiobooks to help me fall asleep.

***

On Sunday afternoon, something changed.

Instead of starting at the main trail, which I knew would be packed with people on a Sunday afternoon, I started at a remote trailhead I hadn’t explored before. It was eerily quiet to the point I started questioning my judgment in traversing the trail alone.

I tried not to think. I focused on the sounds around me. Leaves rustling in the wind. Birds chirping. Water flowing. I soaked in the incredible beauty of this part of the park I hadn’t explored before.

Then I noticed what was missing. My brain was quiet. I wasn’t processing all that’s been hard the past few weeks. 

Silence.

***

During this four hours of quiet, I was hoping that maybe God would give me some answers. I’ve been asking a lot of questions lately, and I thought the least He could do was give me a clear response or sense of direction. If He wasn’t willing to solve my current dilemma in life, what about some bigger questions? 

What’s the meaning of life? Why am I here? What’s it all for? (You know… simple stuff.)

Anything? Hello?

Crickets. 

I listened more closely. 

Nope. 

That was actually cicadas.

No answers. No clarity. Just silence.

***

It might sound like a big waste of time. But I think it was the start of something for me. 

I heard recently that when we go on vacation, it usually takes the first half of the trip for our hearts and minds to slow down enough from the chaos of our normal life to start to truly relax. The pastor challenged us on Sunday with the idea of fasting. A century ago, Christians would fast frequently as a spiritual discipline. 

I don’t ever fast from food because of some health issues. I rarely go even a few hours without eating.

I’ve fasted at times from social media or television. But this might be my first time fasting from my airpods. Fasting from any type of mental stimulation. 

Feasting on silence.

I realized that I often equate the value of an activity with what it does for me. This afternoon of silence didn’t resolve anything or give me a great idea. While I often get my best creative ideas on a walk, this time, I stepped away with nothing.

And I think that was the point.

We don’t always get quick answers or easy resolution. This life is a process. We learn and grow in tiny increments over stretches of time. An afternoon of silence wasn’t the end. It was the very beginning.

I was able to release all that was in my mind and fully enjoy everything around me.

And yes. 

That was a gift.

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