Silent Morning

At 5:45 this morning it was cold in Pittsburgh. Darkness hid the small patches of ice on the back steps, and I slipped briefly. Catching my balance, I breathe a prayer of thanks recognizing that a bad fall at that time of the morning onto stone steps would have been painful, if not very dangerous. As I open the garage door to walk our dog, I am aware of the stillness of the hour. I don’t need to speak at this hour as Nelson (our nearly 13 year old Rhodesian Ridgeback) knows the routine. He runs down the alley, finds his favorite spot, and is back in a flash. He will save the more time consuming walk to do his business for later in the morning when the sun is up and the temperature rises. For now, it is time for him to eat, and if all goes well, he can be back on his bed in just a few minutes.

I am left alone after we complete our morning ritual. The rest of our house does not begin to awaken until 6:15. I use this time to stretch, practice my morning Yoga, and to pray and meditate. I do this in the darkness. No lights are on in the house. My space is lit by the street lights in the alley street and the glow of the gas fireplace that I light for warmth.

This morning I am aware of the silence. There are very few external sounds. I can hear Nelson eating his food, and lapping his water. I hear the click of his nails as he climbs back up the stairs to return to his bed. I can hear my breathing as I exercise. But generally, what I hear is silence. It is time to meditate.

As I sit on the floor this morning I allow myself to continue with the silence. Rather than letting my mind rush off to the day’s concerns, hopes, and fears, instead I just try to be silent. I just want to hear my thoughts. Today I am the watcher looking in as an observer to the things that are going through my head. I resist all temptation to engage in these thoughts and let them just flow. There is no talking, just listening. As I allow myself to leave this state I realize that more time has passed than usual. It is 6:25 and I don’t hear any movement in my house. It is time to wake everyone up, get breakfast ready, check on the boys and start the next morning routine. This routine is filled with sounds of the morning news, comments from the boys on last night’s college basketball games, urging from me to finish breakfast, put on your shoes, take your vitamins, and keep moving. These are gentle urgings. No yelling, no speeches, just the continual reminder that we need to move through our morning and get ready for the day.

As I write today I am continuing with my theme of silence. The only sounds I hear are the tapping of the keys on my laptop, and the whir of the fan on the small space heater I use to heat my third floor office. I hear the words of this article as I write, and I sit as an observer and scribe, faithfully putting to screen the words I hear in my head. I like this place.

Our days are filled with noise. We listen to the radio, play music, watch the news, and yell at our children, spouse, and pets. We argue with the television, complain about the President, the war, the economy, or the weather forecast. We stop for coffee and listen in on the conversations of those around us. We make judgments, criticize others, and curse at the traffic. We tune in our iPod at the gym, watch TV while on the treadmill, and talk politics or sex in the locker room. We gossip at the office, predict the Academy Award winners, and provide commentary on today’s news, weather, and traffic.

In this season of Lent I know that many of us have made decisions to turn more inward. Some of us are fasting or abstaining from things. Others have made commitments to do more of something. Perhaps we will help those less fortunate. Maybe you commit to exercise, daily prayer, or like my son Max, maybe you give up Oreo cookies. I would like to suggest that we give up noise for a period. I am not suggesting 40 days of silence, or even giving up television or radio. Actually, my proposition is much simpler than that. As you read these words I am asking you to just be aware of how much noise you are exposed to right now. Maybe you just have the radio playing. If you are in an office you likely can hear the conversations of those in your surroundings. Or if you are reading my blog you might just be surfing he internet and exposing yourself to the noise of pictures, pop-ups, email, dings and beeps. Tune it all out. You might even stop reading right here and enjoy a few minutes with your own thoughts.

As I sat in the quiet today this article began to play out in my head. I just listened, and experienced the wonder of watching my thoughts. Maybe you can’t tune out the noise right now. You might be reading this on a Blackberry, or taking a break in your office. You might have multiple meetings today and phone calls to make. Your lunch plans may include others, or maybe you even need to conduct a meeting. I know that the opportunities for silence are few. So, here is a thought. After you finish reading this article, close your eyes and count to 60. Do it slowly. Now, when you are done, write down all of the things you thought about during that brief minute. Try to find two or three more times today to do this exercise again. Each time, write down the things you think about. Compare the lists. While the thoughts might be similar, as you force yourself into periods of silence, the thoughts become fewer. The noise begins to tune down as you turn inward, and you just practice watching.

I want you to make a promise to yourself. Some time this weekend commit to 30 minutes of silence. Sit quietly during the day and just let your thoughts go. Watch what happens. If this helps you I would love to hear about it. But then again, rather than telling me, just use that time for more silence.