Here's to the Silence

One afternoon, a couple of weeks ago, when my boss was out of his office*, I played the Van Morrison CD "Hymns to the Silence" while doing some filing and general office cleaning.

*My boss and I don't just have adjoining offices, mine is contained within his and only entered from his. Think Vatican City and Rome or perhaps the Holy Place and the Holy of Holies.

Anywho, since the boss was gone, and I wasn't on-call, I didn't have to use the headphones and I didn't have any interruptions. The music was great, as I played it over and over.

The title song on this "album", "Hymns to the Silence", is really lovely. Interestingly (and the reason for this post), after awhile I discovered that my brain was registering different words, and I was actually hearing "Here's to the Silence."

Here's to the Silence. How often do I actually appreciate quiet, stillness, time to think, downtime, or anything similar? How often do I avail myself of the chance to be silent (even if the world around me is noisy)? When do I appreciate inner stillness, and not hurry to fill the empty spaces with entertainment?

I thought about that Thursday night when several of us (including Izzy, G and Mr. Cheraw) went to hear La Nativité du Seigneur , an "hour-long organ meditation on the birth of Christ", by Olivier Messiaen. Bill read some very short readings, which were followed by much longer passages of very 20th century music on the organ.

Not everyone's cup of tea, but I found myself sitting in the candlelight and thinking. Being quiet. Wondering about why these notes or this setting for a particular reading. I was sitting quietly with my thoughts because of the music. It was silence in the midst of great volume.

Sitting in a silent room often leads my mind to wander far from whatever I am supposed to be focused on -- exams were always a problem, adoration demands lots of concentration, etc. When it is quiet, I focus on every cough, swallow, wheeze, etc. I hear everything when there is nothing to hear. I forget about what is actually important.

In the organ concert, there was nothing familiar, nothing that demanded my attention (familiar lyrics, familiar musical passages, etc.), and I was free to actually think about what had just been read. For example, in one loud, somewhat dissonant passage played after a reading about the "Holy One coming to dwell within my tent", I was able to contemplate the cosmological dissonance that resulted from Divinity being housed within humanity (in Mary's body, in His own skin.) I might not have recalled that had I heard it in a sermon.

I may be the only person there who experienced silence during the organ work, but I needed that time after a hectic work day.

Thanks to G for organizing.