Silently yours

This is a reflection on my silent retreat at the Good Shepherd Oasis from August 2 to August 6.

Dear Words,

Reading many, many words about Silence compelled me to break off with you for three days this week. You have drained me so, played me out, led me on. I have had enough. As I trekked up the hill to meet Silence, I resolved to make a clean break with you. You will not cross my lips, nor escape from my fingertips into my phone, nor run across my eyes.

Shortly after I parted ways with you to be with Silence, I saw other women check in. In that split moment, I realized I didn’t have to greet them and introduce myself. A wave of freedom washed over me. I was free from the usual social obligations to make meaningless small talk. Usually through you, Words, I can quickly figure out someone’s educational background and socio-economic status within the first few moments of any conversation. And without you, I was freed from hearing someone’s manner of speaking and from slotting them into social categories. I was so very glad to be rid of you!

But not for long. I barred you from my lips but you kept stalking the chambers of my mind. I laid you, the spoken word to rest in the grave of my mouth but you took the crafty form of the imagined word, running amok in my mind. You lurked in every dark corner, and once my guard was down, you flirted with me through monologues and imaginary dialogues. You held out false comfort, knowing where I was vulnerable. You knew that I could shake you off outwardly, but that inwardly, I still craved your company. How badly I needed Silence to heal me of my addiction to you. Time and again, I slammed the door in your face once I saw your shadows in each chamber of my mind. I was resolved to keep you away.

Still, you kept up your assault. My lips were carefully fortified so, you wormed your way out from the chambers of my heart that were corrupted. You teased out evil words about my neighbour. “Look at her, why is she talking. She even went shopping. Scandalous.” How I hated you then, Words. You turned the tables on me, and made me detest myself. And so I hid in Silence more and more. 

And she took me in as I fled from you. She nursed me. I told her how you, Words have hurt me. She helped me find those words that had been hiding in the noise of my life. She told me to forgive those who said those words to me. And I pried you loose from those dark places of my heart and I let you go.

When you left, I could let down my defences and simply sit with Silence. And she opened my eyes to the touches of beauty everywhere that spoke of love without words. Like that swing under the mango tree, the water feature with dry ice, the rock formation, the hot meals. You, Silence, nourished me.

And you did so even though I never once said anything interesting, funny, wise. You did not need to be entertained nor counseled with words. You just sat with me. And then it hit me. Even if I never ever write a sentence of any value, tell a joke, teach a class, share a testimony, give advice, even if all I do is sit with you, Silence under that mango tree, you, and you alone would still love me. And so, I wept under your gentle gaze.

Then you, Silence, brokered a truce between me and Words. You brought me into you and taught me to speak out of having first met you and lingered in you. You would birth those words I need and bring them to me to speak and to write.

You have kept your word. You have brought me both words and silence to give to others. Not everyone received them. Sometimes the words that you gave me to speak were cut off. At other times, the silence you gave me to pass on to someone was broken. I simply returned to you, waiting for something else you would birth and give to me. Because I now only want the words you give to me to speak and to write.   

Silently yours,
Me