Just received my latest copy of National Geographic. I love that magazine and like George Bailey, I wish that I could travel to exotic locations someday. But for now I just live vicariously through its pages. In this issue there’s an article about folks who climb K2. The triumphant photos of summiting that peak reminded me of a backpacking trip I took in my teens in West Virginia. We climbed a pretty big hill in the Mountaineer State and I remember sitting on top of that rocky crag marveling a) that I made it up there and 2) how quiet it was, looking down at all the other hilltops with just sun and clouds and sky above us. But most of all, the Quiet.
Quiet is pretty unique these days. Even when we are home alone with no television, computers or phones “on,” our homes still aren’t quiet. I was recently reminded of this when the power went out one day. And boy, it was Quiet. I never realized what a hum goes on in our house until everything shut off. Even Kadee Dogger was unnerved by it. I thought the power would pop on quickly. But it didn’t. “What to do?” I thought. So much of my life is tied to electricity! Can’t watch a DVD. Can’t browse the internet. I could work on my laptop, but didn’t want to run down the battery. I could call someone, but I was sort of relishing the Quiet. Then I realized there was something delicious that I could do. Knit. Knitting requires no electricity. So I manually lit the pilot light on my gas stove to make a cup of tea, pulled out my project and started to knit. In the Quiet, I heard the soft “tip tip tip” of my needles. A comforting, rhythmic sound that I haven’t heard for a long, long time. I thought about women in ages past, who managed through their lives without electricity to raise children, run households and kept the faith. Women who were tuned into the Quiet . . . like I wanted to be.
I enjoyed my hour and a half in the Quiet. I calmed down, focused and felt each stitch in a way I don’t when I’m watching NCIS or the History Channel. I thought about relatives long gone. I thought about books I would like to read. I thought about spring garden plans. I thought about how tall our boys are getting and how I needed to organize the hundreds of photos I have of them. I thought about my dear husband and how hard he works. Then . . . boom! The electricity popped on. The Quiet escaped me and I started thinking about dinner plans, evening carpools and what I needed at the grocery store. My house was loud and I missed the Quiet.
Here’s hoping that you take the time in each day to seek the Quiet in your own life. If you have to pop a fuse to do it, so be it!