Silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves together. Thomas Carlyle
OK, the Great Pumpkin is behind us, turkeys are flying from the grocer’s freezers, and the number of Black Friday events has multiplied to a point that seems, well, pointless. The other day we recovered the hour we had lost last Spring (as if time has ever stopped, backed up, or sprung forward). The sun has pulled a blanket of clouds over its face (having gone South for the winter along with the migratory birds), and peeks out from beneath the covers every now and then just to see if we’re still here.
We humans don’t take the hint, of course. Where nature tells us it is time to settle down, rest, and recuperate from the frenetic pace we set in Spring, Summer, and Autumn, we don’t. Like a child hyped up on too much sugar and candy, many yell back at Mother Nature, “You’re not the boss of me!” and set about to make as big a mess and as much noise as they want to.
Yes, I know everyone complains about Christmas displays up and running before the Back to School specials at the end of summer. I know we complain about the confluence of various holidays between Labor Day and New Year. We complain, but what can we actually do about any of it?
Nothing – and that’s OK.
We can complain about it, if we wish. We can move someplace where such matters don’t exist (like Guam, Wake Island, or Mars), if we wish. We can let it bother us, if we wish. We can bury our heads in the sand and ignore the chaos, if we wish.
Or we can put on our big girl or big boy pants and accept that we live in a weird world, and just because chaos is for sale, we don’t need to buy it; just because chaos is visible, we don’t need to stare at it; just because chaos is bursting out all around us, there is no attending shock-wave with which we need to actually deal.
I will confess that I hum or whistle holiday music year-round. I do it spontaneously when the mood strikes. I do it quietly and to myself. It may not always be the “right time of year” in which to do it, but so what? If it brings me joy, it brings me joy. Shall I let some fuddy-duddy bring me down with a sneer or scowl? Heck no! On the contrary, that would be more likely to increase the mirth of my soul (I never said I was a nice person).
No, I really try not to let the wackiness of the world we live in get me down. I have enough of those periods without any outside help. What I do find helpful is noting what my environment is doing to me and asking what I need to do (if anything) in response – for my own health and peace of mind.
If hype, noise, and chaos is causing my blood pressure to rise and my nerves to fray, I seek out a quiet place at home, or car, or the sanctuary of my church. Churches are marvelously quiet places between Sundays. It’s too bad so many of them need to be locked up for security or protection from thieves and vandals. But they can be wonderful places to go when one needs relief from the assaults of a jingly, jangly world. We can also set up small sacred spaces in our homes if church space isn’t available.
As for the season of Happy Hallo-Thanks-mas, it is what it is. It is only a bother if I decide I need to do something about it. Fortunately, I don’t. Controlling the world is above my pay-grade (and a task for which I am marvelously unsuited).
No, my job isn’t so much to change the world, but to ask God to change me and pray that the end result of that undertaking may make the world a better place in the process. Until then, I’ll just make space for the sound of silence here in this, our valley.
Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)
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