We could all use a little more silence
After a year of powerful but endless and action-oriented conversations, it’s break time
I decided it was time to give both my mouth and my ears a rest and sought the sounds of silence this summer
My dad often pondered if I might ever find a job where I could talk for a living since it was a skill, he had keenly observed, in which I seemed to excel from a very young age. As it turned out, my mouth has paid off in lots of ways, whether I was working as a reporter, a parish minister or now as a social planner.
In my current role I have had a year of powerful but endless and action-oriented conversations on homophobia, transphobia, women’s homelessness, living wage, Ontario Works/ODSP, basic income, student nutrition and other social trends and issues facing the Hammer and beyond. I decided it was time to give both my mouth and my ears a rest and sought the sounds of silence this summer.
I returned to the same corner of land at Richmond and Windermere on the mighty Thames in London, Ontario, where I have come seeking new life for 35 years, starting as a student boarder at The Mount in Grade 13 and later as a retreatant at Medaille House, both now closed but having been run by my longtime companions on the journey, the Sisters of St. Joseph.
This time I am at their new, environmentally sustainable, LEED™ certified Motherhouse, built on the same piece of land where Medaille once stood and still surrounded by majestic trees and pockets of forests filled with over 1,200 individual plants from 35 indigenous species.
There is also a wide array of wildlife forced to share their space with us. This morning I was pretty much nose to nose with a deer longing for running water which was far more pleasant than the morning I was pretty much nose to nose with a skunk longing to share its scent with the universe.
In my search for silence I am midway through an eight-day retreat. Except for the hour I spend in reflection and integration with my wise, wondering and wonder-filled spiritual director, Sister Margo Ritchie, I am silent.
To aid and abet this effort I’ve been provided with a marvellous tool ensuring my silence remains golden. It’s a name tag I wear around my neck identifying me as a, “Retreatant.” It is magical and I wish it worked outside of these loving walls.
Sisters and staff know not to speak to retreatants because they may interrupt an ongoing dialogue with the Divine. So sometimes I’ll see a smiling Sister coming toward me, eager to be hospitable and meet a new friend when she spies the tag and suddenly there is a quick zip of the mouth and a warm nod indicating, I believe, both a warning to keep the silence and an assurance of prayer.
There are days in my work and, might I dare add, at home (don’t tell Renée), that I’d love to flash this identity tag and render the potential speaker into silence.
But it is a deeper silence I seek as I can still hear the external noises of ambulances on route to nearby University Hospital, lawn mowers and leaf blowers and the happy campers next door at Spencer Lodge. The birds and cicadas sing during all of my waking hours.
So it is clear the silence must come from within. As an only child I am practised at solitude, having entertained myself endlessly when there was no one with whom to play, but solitude is not the same as silence. It seems I have a continuous soundtrack or narration playing as I make my way through the world and it is difficult to turn that off which leads to a lack of stillness.
As I was pondering these three states — silence, solitude and stillness — I came across a dear old friend hanging silently on the wall outside by room. We hadn’t seen each other for over a decade at least. It was the Desiderata, things to be desired.
“Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence.”
Yes, there may be peace in silence, but it is finding and carrying Sacred Stillness, as I walk amid the noise and haste, for which I long.
May summer bring each of us a little more silence and a lot more stillness.