It is sneaking up on 8:00, my dog is at my feet, my daughter is nestled up next to me reading her book, the fireplace is painting the room a wonderfully warm glow, and there’s the faintest of snowfalls decorating the world outside.  That’s it.  There’s no other noise, neither heard nor imagined.  I have nowhere to be, no one to whom I am held accountable, and no thoughts are consuming my mind.  After a week of utter chaos, sickness and emotional drain, I have found a moment of peace. It is quiet.  It is beautiful.  For today, let’s keep it that way.

Quiet can come in different ways for different people.  It might mean staying in bed, or reading a book; perhaps playing video games, or taking a hike through the forest.  For me, defining quiet is equal parts finding joy and slowing down.  Most often that materializes in the kitchen, the workshop or in nature.  When I’m in any of those spaces I get to tune out the rest of the world and its responsibilities and connect directly and intimately with the details that go into putting a dish together – making fresh pasta, simmering sauces, right down to the peeling and mincing of some fresh garlic.  Out in the workshop I may putter away at whatever project that may lie waiting – using my hands to create something special and unique.  Headed in to the forest I notice the humming of traffic disappear and begin to take in the softer sounds of the wind in the trees and water through the rocks.  No email, no phone, no calendar reminders or ‘Hey, do you have a minute?’ lunch time interruptions.  Just me and whatever is happening in that moment.

I don’t rightly know what shape today’s quiet will take, though I suspect it may involve all of what I’ve just mentioned.  Perhaps we may pepper in a little time in the hot tub, a board game or two and, of course, a check-in with The Jays later this afternoon.  Quiet doesn’t need to be planned or scheduled, in fact it’s often better and more sincere when it’s not.  It will be everything that it is meant to be, no matter the form that it takes, and its healing nature will be a welcome reprieve from what came before and whatever will come next.  I’ll embrace the quiet, cherish the quiet, and I will express my gratitude for all that it provides.

It’s typically a rule of mine that these posts contain 1,000 words on whatever topic I’m rambling on about.  Today, though, it seems appropriate that I not hold myself to such a high standard.  That in order to fully and properly take in this quiet, it’s okay if, for example, I were to head out and explore the quiet and just stop writing this whole thing mid-sente