An Appetite For Silence
An Appetite For Silence
I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.
—Psalm 131:2
The week in Mexico was amazing: the wide glittering sea, babies and kids, swimming and tacos and limes and laughter and people we love. But it was magical on a deeper level too, because it created in me an appetite for silence that I hadn’t tasted for years, possibly. The constant chatter and conversation and mental clutter we create with Twitter and Facebook and Pinterest and blogs was, for one week, blessedly silent. It was like going on a juice fast for your brain, and as much as you’re starving, you feel strong and whole and healthy and clear for the first time in a long time. After a few days, I realized how much I liked it. How much the silence sounded like music, and how much better I liked my own life in that silence.
When I think back to Mexico, I force myself to lay down my phone for a while. I practice being entirely where I am, glamorous or not, and I find that it’s better to be in one place, wholly and full-heartedly, than a thousand splintery half-places, glamorous as they may be.
HAVE YOU ever gone on a technology fast—either voluntarily or accidentally? If so, what was that like? How often do you feel that you are wholly and full-heartedly in one place? Are there any changes that you’d like to make in that regard? If so, what small step could you take today?
From the book
