In the Quiet Zone

I watched as they took their seat on the park bench. Settled in, he put his arm around her. She shifted towards him to fit into that familiar curve as they sat in pensive thought. No words were spoken. They were in the quiet zone.

There’s joy in those pensive moments of silence. It is in silence that thoughts can flow freely, encouraging creativity and problem solving. Isn’t it in the quiet of night, when we are in bed, phones and all other demands put to rest, that we find that silence to think, to solve our problems, to settle into observance?

Silence nullifies the distractions of this world, for just a little while. Though the quiet zone is hard to find and even harder to remain in, we find it is soul-satisfying and extraordinarily enriching when we allow ourselves to flourish there.

When Wynne Leon spoke of Doing Nearly Nothing, earlier this week, I couldn’t help but think of what a rarity that is in our modern world. To simply sit, think, do nothing. Why are we so preoccupied with filling our time? And why does our time always feel like its running away from us? Yet, giving time to some one else is the purest form of love. It is a non-renewable resource, one that we often waste wildly. Let’s not even talk about Instagram. 🤣

Time has been my nemesis for a long, long time. I’m not sure I knew how to stop when I was young, but I thankfully learned my lesson early (you probably read an older post where I spoke of this painful learning). And though I’m still not perfect at it, I make solid attempts at going slower, and savouring the present, especially now that I’m older.

The To-Do list still exists and it still often feels like there’s so much to do. So I combat the pressure and distractions by building solid boundaries. I intentionally, wherever I can, steal bits of time for myself, doing nothing, or as Wynne put it, “nearly nothing.”

My version of “nearly nothing” was a walk in the woods with my Mr. D. (Yes, Wynne, I have my own much older version of Mr. D.). We walked in pensive silence, listening to water flow over rocks, teasing the ice loose in the creek beside us. Birds whistled away the evening while an unusually mild February breeze moved the tops of bare branches. Occasionally he’d pass a helping hand so I could jump over puddles caused by snow melt, the muddy trail squelching under my feet while the sun warmed our faces. Here we were among the trees doing nearly nothing, admiring the cyclic magic of nature, hugging trees (me not him 😆), finding joy and gratitude, in the silence of the quiet zone.

So tell me, what brought you joy and gratitude this week?

Write a post, like a gratitude journal about something joyful you’ve experienced on this journey to joy. Link your post in comments by next Friday, and I’ll share it in my next Saturday’s post.

Thank you for being here on this journey with me.