"Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind." - Henri Frederic Amiel

Today, I find myself thinking of the times when I am quiet and I wonder what those around me see at these times, and what they think. I remember times sitting quietly with a beloved friend and wondering what they were thinking and experiencing. Sometimes, I find myself balanced between wanting to gently ask “What are you thinking?” and not wanting to intrude into their quiet moments. I feel myself wanting to grow closer by understanding more of my loved ones’ thoughts and feelings. I also feel myself wanting to respect their privacy and honor their choosing to be quiet.

I am thinking of all the times my lovely partner has asked me “What are you thinking?” and I feel deep gratitude that she always asks this with a genuine desire to know me more completely. She is one of those who can easily see when I am troubled, and can ask this gently as a way of offering comfort and support. Most often she asks with loving curiosity as a way of welcoming me to connect with her. She has never asked in a way that made me feel she was trying to judge or manipulate my thoughts or feelings. I’ve experienced that in the past and I am glad that it’s been many years since I felt the sense of mistrust and intrusion that can come along with an unloving questioning of my inner life.

I ask questions like “What are you thinking?”, too, and I believe I ask them with the same gentle respect, and an invitation to trust. It can be part of the communication that is so important to genuine emotional intimacy. Still, sometimes, I don’t ask. Not all silences need to be broken and sometimes the most intimate, loving, and respectful thing I can do is to let the quiet alone. As I sit quietly with loved ones, I can find myself wondering if this time theirs is a peaceful quiet, or disquiet? If I am relatively sure there is something troubling someone I care for, I am more likely to ask in hopes that I can be some help or comfort. Even then there is a moment of choice. The more I sense a need for privacy, the less likely I am to drop that first pebble into the the still pond of silence.

I am very grateful for the wonderful healing that can be found in quiet times. In quiet, we can connect with who we are. We may simply experience the beauty and peace around us, especially in nature or when we are quiet with loved ones, or heal the raw places and weave in the frayed, unraveled threads in the tapestries of our lives. These times are precious. I’ve found joy, looked for answers, and sought healing in quiet many times in my life and remembering this helps me to value and honor the silence of others.

I have a deep desire to respect another's choice to spend time quietly and to honor their desire, or need, for this time. It’s part of wanting to respect their privacy and all their individual choices. Some who know me may read this and wonder if I am ever quiet! I do talk a lot. Much of my talking with those closest to me is meant to enjoy the closeness we share, and to grow closer still. Sometimes my talking in less intimate settings, while honest, is shaped to meet the needs of the situation when my own needs would be better served by silence. Those who know me best see through the masks I wear to play my roles in life, and it is with these dear ones I can most easily be quiet. I admit it is something I have needed to learn and that I expect I will continue learning while I live.

Still, if a loved one were quietly hurting, I would wish to find a way to let them know that I would welcome the opportunity to help. To be trusted with the confidence that all is not well. Perhaps at times the best comfort would be for them to have me there to share the quiet, knowing that they are having a tough time. Sometimes just to have someone close, even to squeeze your hand or pat your shoulder, can make such a difference. A gentle touch can be a great way to help bring relaxation in good times and bad without disturbing the quiet. Maybe that's part of the reason foot rubs, and such, are so popular at our house!

There may be times when it would help to to talk things through with a friend. Other times, having a loving ear to simply listen to our cares is what we need most. I pay attention to my desire to speak and I’ve been learning over the years to recognize when it’s best to keep silent. My undergraduate degree is in psychology and I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I’d found the money for graduate school and worked in the healing professions instead of in IT. I am honored when my dear ones trust me with whatever is weighing on their minds and I do my best to walk softly with them only as far into their disquiet as they are comfortable traveling together.

Some of my own most difficult quiet times are spent considering my regrets. Especially feelings of regret over those hard things in my life that I can’t make right. Sometimes I must accept that we can’t go back to how it was, and we wish it could be again, but only go forward in the best way that we can find. I know that I’m not unique in this and I imagine many of us spend some of our quiet moments looking for the best answers to these hard questions. When there is still a way to make amends, quiet can help me accept the need to do this, and find the actions that can heal an old hurt I’ve caused. Especially when there is no way to make things right, forgiveness seems to be one of the most powerful options. I have the option of forgiving those who have hurt me, and the much more difficult choice of forgiving myself for harm I’ve caused. I find that quiet times are vital to my ability to find, and accept, forgiveness.

As I think of my loved ones, I know that I am ready to help, if I can, as they find their way through the hard work of regret, forgiveness, grief, and the other challenges in our lives. I can respect their need for quiet when they are seeking healing and answers in silence. I’m also ready to give my strength and love when leaning on me will help. It is an honor when my loved ones are willing to place some of their burden on my shoulders and trust me to carry it with them. I imagine walking with them down the beach and seeing the depth of their footprints growing less as the weight passes from them.

I can also recognize that sometimes peace and quiet is simply that, or a way to recharge our batteries. I’m glad that, very often, quiet may contain curious, or happy, thoughts, and sweet, deeply felt, emotions. We can simply sit quietly together enjoying the peace and warmth of one another’s loving company. We can share a smile, or a touch, to communicate our shared contentment. We can choose to speak, or ask gently, and share the fruits of silence with our loved ones. I’m grateful for these times when quiet contains not a burden to be lightened but a joy that might grow in the sharing.

I look forward to sharing even more time for talk and laughter, and for quiet times together, with my loved ones in retirement. I hope I can grow to be even more of a trusted friend to these special ones. To help ease their sorrows and amplify their joy. I know that growing closer with them will be an especially precious part of my growing as life goes on.


(Thinking back to my interest in psychology, one of the books that I often share with others is “The Healing Connection” by Irene Stiver and Jean Baker Miller. I find the ideas they advance about how we become ourselves in relationship with others very valuable and their suggestions about how to avoid “disconnects” helpful.)