The Fullness of Silence

The other night, I watched a mini documentary by Brian Bolster, titled Winters Watch,  about a winter watchman for an old hotel off the New England coast I was immediately impressed by the noise, or lack thereof. There was no score or music to create a mood. Instead, it's given to you whole and raw. Only the sounds of her surroundings, and her voice, as a narrator feed your aural senses. This really helps you connect with her environment, and perhaps feel a little bit of what she feels and experiences when she spends months on watch, and it made me think.

Despite the fact that one of my childhood dreams was to fulfill the role of a winter watchmen or something similar, for as long as I can remember, I've known my need for silence. Even a couple hours here and there suffices me for the most part, but then I feel the need for something more, perhaps a weekend or longer.

Our lives are so constantly filled with noise, that we scarcely realize it. Quietness becomes a void to be filled. From our waking hours, to the morning commute, all the way to the drive home, we are likely bombarded with the thoughts and influences of someone else. The truth is someone else is occupying our head space most of the time, I find that alarming.

In my repulsion to this truth I usually escape to the wilderness, to be free of outside influences. It's here where I find the fullness of silence, and here where I am reaquainted with myself again. Where I can hear my own thoughts, unhindered. Here in silence, I can, dare I say hear the very voice of God again.

Solitary Stone