As I sit to write today I realize I’d much prefer to be quiet. I’ve been finding words a bit off-putting. This is rare for me. I am not sure if it is individually mine or part of a greater collective need for quiet that is pervasive.

Whatever has landed in my consciousness wants to be quiet. To be honest, I barely feel like writing. I’m not sure I can express what I am attempting to say other than this. Does everything need words? Can we allow ourselves to be quiet?

I know many people find it uncomfortable to remain in silence for too long, but it is deeply healing and restorative.

I have sat on both sides of the counseling chair. In both instances, I am prone to expect relief from a talk; to expect more clarity and healing from putting language to our inner and outer conditions; to believe words lead to finding resolutions. Yet, words cannot always convey the deep feelings rattling beneath the surface.

Some of the most profound moments in my relationships have been when we just sit with each other in silence. When we hold space for one another without offering solutions.

Recently, after the death of my Bella, my dear friend just came to “be” with me. Not to talk. Not to pressure me to put words to my pain. Just to be near. It was such a powerful, magical, and healing gesture.

I need more of it.

I don’t have any answers. I have lots of questions. I am open to not knowing. Not fixing. I believe I will find clarity by honoring my need to stay in reflection. It will pass when more clarity returns.

Let’s lean into our silence with faith and trust as we navigate the important changes on the horizon.

And let us think about how this may apply to our children. Consider whether we let our children be quiet. How often do we press them to verbalize what is not well-formed in their hearts and minds? Do we allow our children their silence?

It may be a relief to them and to us if we just let them ‘be’ and honor the need for silence. It’s okay. Really it is.