Tag Archives: contemplation

Moments of silence

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There was a time when moments of silence were golden. When being alone with my thoughts was quiet and contemplative. When no sound meant calm and inspired serenity.

Now I fill those moments. I listen to books, podcasts, and music. I avoid the silence because that’s when my tinnitus gets loud… and even if I wanted that silence, I wouldn’t get it. My tinnitus is a constant tone, for others it’s like crickets. For anyone who has it, it’s the end of silence.

But there is another kind of silence. It’s the quiet of the mind. It’s like an ocean without waves. This is even more elusive. It is the moments when our minds are not reliving the past or creating unlikely futures. It is when our minds are not thinking about our schedule, worrying about our responsibilities, or planning our next moment, meeting, or meal.

It is when there is nothing to do, but there is no boredom.

It is when nothing is pressing, and there is no need to rush.

It’s also when you don’t seek a distraction. But now the distraction is always there. It looks like Facebook or TikTok, Instagram or Twitter, YouTube or Audible, text or email, WhatsApp or Snapchat.

We have let technology steal away our moments of silence. We are robbed of those golden moments. The dopamine rush of the next notification is too great to resist, and too daunting to allow silence a chance. Silence is no longer a desired state, it is a state of absence to avoid, not a desired state of stillness.

Moments of silence were already elusive, now they are all but nonexistent. I even wonder if for someone younger, who spent their teen years with a smartphone, if silence was ever known, is ever desirable? Or is this just a nostalgic ideal?

It’s quiet now, but my tinnitus sings it’s ever present song, and I put on some background music. The silence is gone.

Sitting Under a Large Tree

Sitting under a large tree, staring up at the branches, I can see that wind is a fickle thing. Some leaves and branches lay motionless, while others sway back and forth, while still others dance. The tree doesn’t resist. A larger gust of wind picks up, more of the tree moves this time, it undulates, absorbing the larger force, then settles down again.

Sitting under a large tree, I can imagine my ancestors doing the same. The kind of tree might have varied, but the experience would have been almost the same for hundreds and even thousands of years.

Sitting under a large tree can provide shade, shelter, even food. But more than anything, sitting under a tree provides time for quiet contemplation.

The wind blows, and leaves and branches dance again.

What could have been

I feel it every year.

It’s the last official day of school, an administrative day. Students picked up report cards yesterday and teachers wrap things up today. This is the day that I look back and think of what could have been. I think of the lost opportunities, the missed potential, the goals unmet.

I know I’ll look back and see the accomplishments as summer begins, but for some reason this day has always been melancholy, and sadly nostalgic (if that makes sense). It’s weird. I don’t tend to be the kind of person that holds regrets and wallows on missed opportunities, but this day always harbours feelings that the year could have been better. Specifically, on this day I look back and feel that I could have, and should have, been better and given more of myself to the school year.

It’s a feeling that’s hard to shake, through the goodbyes and the well wishes for a wonderful summer. It will go away, but today it sits with me, now and throughout the day ahead. Oh, what could have been! It sounds sad, but in a way, it holds me accountable and makes me want next year to be better. There are “promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.”

While the past holds many successes, and the future holds much potential, today I sit with what could have been.