Tag: silence

Everything That Needs To Be Said

Everything That Needs To Be Said

Maybe we don’t have to fix the problem.

Resolve the issue.

Map out the next three steps.

In their moment of hurt perhaps all they want from us is our presence, to silently sit in their mud with them, to give them a safe space just to be, to remind them in the loneliest of moments that they aren’t really alone at all.

At a time where there are often no words, we need not bother looking for them. 

Sometimes our presence says everything that needs to be said.

Photo by Transly Translation Agency on Unsplash

Know Yourself To Grow Yourself

Know Yourself To Grow Yourself

All I heard was nothing.

Recently I discovered a rather interesting piece of music which contained absolutely zero music.

None.

It was composed by an American avant-garde composer John Cage, it’s initial performance in 1952. The title of this work is “4:33” as in 4 minutes and 33 seconds. Of silence. Of musicians seated and poised on stage simply silent and still for the next four and a half minutes.

The true music of this piece, according to Cage, is in the ambient noises found in the silence. Primarily noises from an uneasy audience not knowing what to do in the unconventional absence of sound.

An imaginative use of silence.

Silence can be uncomfortable, often labeled as awkward. And while silence has at times been both uncomfortable and awkward for me, silence has also been a transformative portal for my own inner growth and understanding.

Sitting in my own silence, I get to hear the not-so-ambient noises within me. I get to hear the Continue reading “Know Yourself To Grow Yourself” →

Turkeys, Trees, and The Tradition Of Pain

Turkeys, Trees, and The Tradition Of Pain

There’s nothing like the smell of chicken hearts and gizzards boiling in a sauce pan on the stove.

Deb is a holiday traditionalist. And one of her most important Thanksgiving traditions is making her Mom’s stuffing. It’s become a more significant tradition now that her Mom is no longer able to celebrate the holiday with her. For years they’d gather the day before Thanksgiving to combine the bread and the meat and the spices and, yes, the boiled chicken hearts and gizzards, and create a staple of their holiday meal.

It was more than just making stuffing. It was a bond between mother and daughter forged in the ritual of perpetuating a very important tradition.

Beautiful.

Yet, now bittersweet.

Sometimes the holidays can be quite painful. T’is not always the season to be jolly. Loss and emptiness can be excruciatingly magnified at a time of expected joy and glee. We’ve all experienced our own form of hurt, longing for what once was, longing for what never was, now seasonally contrasted against the backdrop of all things shiny and bright.

I think back to some of the more traumatic events in my life, wounds annually reopening as I balance my own levels of bitter and sweet this time of year. I think of friends and their childhood traumas and how their inner pain silently crushes their holiday spirit, no matter how much they may be smiling on the Continue reading “Turkeys, Trees, and The Tradition Of Pain” →