Not too long ago, we were at my son's house having a discussion on what I don't remember, when my daughter-in-law turned to me and said, "You have gotten quieter the older you get." This stopped me. If she had said I had gotten older, or fatter, or grayer, or more wrinkly, I would have laughed and said, "You're right." But quieter?
You have to understand that when I am with my son and his bride and my bride, I am the lone extrovert in a forest of introverts. There have been many times that I have gladly carried the role of discussion energizer, keeping it moving. I have my suspicions that their son may be in my camp, but time will tell.
But quieter. I'm not sure what this means. Not at all sure it is a good thing or a bad thing. Wonder where it came from?
Perhaps it is the Spiritual Disciplines over the past 10 years or so. Two of the primary "internal" disciplines is silence and solitude. It allows the mind to empty while being open to spiritual thought. In other words, it allows the mind to wander down the paths that God has forged, instead of trying to navigate the journey from our perspective. These disciplines lead to revelation, both self and spiritual. But the art of being silent is one that is earned, and not easily our society. Just a day or so ago, with some dear friends we were talking about the boredom of running. It occurred to me that as I run, once I get past the discomfort of muscles and breathing, my body simply falls into a rhythm, but my mind explores thoughts and truths and questions. I could only describe it as "thinking about stuff" But it is a silence that I cherish, earned from several years of practicing this particular discipline. Could this be why I am quieter?
Or it could be that some of the recent year's experiences have dampened my enthusiasm for involvement. Disillusioned about a few of the things that have always been mainstays in my life. The breach of loyalty with organized religion, but the deep commitment I made to serve, only to be harmed by the very people who were supposed to be my advocates. The loss of career and work that sustains and gives me joy for almost two years. The understanding even now that loyalty to people-designed organizations is an iffy prospect at best. Could this have wounded me deeper than I thought?
Maybe it is the realization that this world keeps turning and one day, sooner than when I started, it will turn without me. Will the lessons I tried to teach, the loved ones I tried to help, the family I tried to raise, will they be okay? Will they be able to deal with the world as it spins in new directions? Has this made me a little more aware and thus made me more contemplative? Perhaps.
What if it is as simple as I have run out of things to say? My advice is either accepted or ignored, my opinion has worth to the hearer, or it doesn't. It is possible that I have hit a moment on this journey when I simply want to experience the ride without all the fanfare. Can't I take a moment with a few friends and my family and enjoy the quietness of being in a good moment and time? Would that be okay?
Godspeed, to all out there who hear the words from the song, "When its all been said and done" and can halt the journey for a moment, can quiet the noise of the heart, and can enjoy the quietness of the moment.
Don
