That’s what my mind screamed this morning as my daughter chattered non stop.
I had risen early to write and craved quiet to settle myself and think. I needed quiet in body and mind after the crazy week I’d had.
She had risen early to prepare for work, but the roads were still icy and she couldn’t leave at 6:45 as planned.
And, so she talked. Non stop talked. Fast. Furious. Asking me questions and not giving me time to answer. Her mind was racing (usually is) and her mouth was doing its best to keep up. Flitting from room to room (and bumping into me as she passed), she continued to talk even when the distance between us was too great for me to hear what she was saying.
My muscles tensed and my jaw clenched. Frustration grew within me. Tears stung my eyes. The ONLY time I would have for quiet was slipping away. My mind, the one I’d hoped to settle and ground in quiet, became a roaring, conflicted mess of thoughts. I wanted to scream, “SILENCE!” and have everything fall still and silent.
Some people thrive in a whirl of activity where noise, within and without, feeds their innermost needs.
Others need quiet.
Quiet is more than a lack of audible noise. Quiet is a stillness…calmness…peacefulness that allows the mind to recharge, regroup, focus – and it exists where intrusions do not interrupt and the mind is free to go about its business.
Silence was not what I needed this morning. Quiet was.
And, quiet is what I’ve had for the past 20 minutes. Daughter went out to sit in her car while the street thaws. She sent a brief burst of texts in which she said she would return indoors before leaving.
And, when she does quiet will flee from the barrage of noise that will accompany her.
Where is she in her cycle? This is CD 4 for her.
Where am I in mine? Take a wild guess.