There are two groups of you out there. One group says "quiet? are you crazy?" Often, these are busy people, people who have too much to do at work and at home, people who are raising young kids and fighting to hold onto jobs that are less secure and less enjoyable than they should be. The other group doesn't say anything at all. They run their own businesses and they know that when it gets quiet, it gets scary. They might not have kids or they might have grown kids: either way, they know what it's like to come home to quiet.
What do you notice when it gets quiet?
In our training, we give people simple ways to make it quiet in their heads. Some of them hate it. Quiet scares them. Some of them love it - but mostly because they are used to too much noise. They know that quiet won't last, so they enjoy it while they have it.
When it gets quiet, we lose our sense of where we are. Sound is an important part of how we locate ourselves and how we balance. Without it, we find that we are slightly disoriented. It's a little like floating with your ears just underwater. Cool in a way, but not what you expect.
Today, I am floating with my ears underwater. After all the deep connectedness of training, it is suddenly quiet. It's as if the world around me is taking a deep breath and enjoying the last weeks before the busy-ness and business of fall. With my ears underwater, I notice my heart beating. With my ears underwater, I float on the margin between peace and panic.
In the quiet, I choose my words more carefully because they ring so loudly.
In the quiet, I am at a crossroads. I know I am asking myself to choose. What next?