Photo by Susan Glarum
Silence has been a steady visitor at my home in Cannon Beach these past few weeks of virus shutdown. Its sound was deafening at first, then the roar quieted, softening to a peaceful presence. Peace filled in where the sound of silence first rattled the nerves.
It’s hard stepping into the silence of isolation from the din of life’s comings and goings. The solitude of social distancing turned off the volume of the working world leaving me at sea. But in my alone time I learned to listen to a whispering inner voice; and finally, now, hear what is true. Peace abides in these moments, and in each moment of new-found silence I learn from heart more than I ever did from the outside world about living fully.
I’ve learned that the past does not have to determine my future. What life has in store after the virus will be there when I arrive, without my thinking too much about it. Because I’ve given up my anxiety for the morrow to live fully in the moment, each moment offers its best.
It’s like this: each word I write in this moment becomes part of the past over time, but the message remains present in your life as the reader. The message is that life is experienced in the present, not in the past or future. Live in this moment and life takes care of itself. To find the way, listen to the whispering voice of silence. I now hear that voice, after escaping the din of the world, and find peace moment by moment.
Outside my window is a birch with wispy strands of long, twiggy branches drooping dainty, green leaves. Beyond that is another tree, a pine with needles sharply etched in the gray of the day, and beyond that a maple with broadening leaves showing the green promise of warmer days. Three dimensions of trees like a diorama in a shoe box with four, five, six layers of forest beyond, until high on the hills toward Tillamook Head stand tall spruce with misty sky draped through their branches. This low-slung mist hangs deeply in the upper reaches of forest far from the window through which I gaze while sitting in my cozy chair. Is each layer of trees, in the dioramic march from my yard into the hills, a moment in the whole of the forest? It seems so to me.
I think of life’s moments as the various trees tucked between the nearby birch and the distant spruce. Each tree is its own experience, a moment in the life of the forest. My life is made up of such moments, each of which I perceive as now. Maybe life is as simple as there being no end to the present. It’s like a forest of moments. Even memory is a thing of the moment. The feelings it conjures up are in the present, which also holds thoughts of the future. Nothing seems to be outside of now except memory and imagination.
I’ve learned in these alone times of coronavirus isolation to not let my anxious imagination run wild. I find solace in the quiet and know in my heart what to do in this moment without anxiety. I’m confident that each moment will bring to me what is needed to be at peace with it all.
Now is a time of spiritual centering for many of us, Darrell. Thank you so much for these good words to sharpen our senses!