A cup of coffee.
A long walk on a warm morning with an excited pup.
Breakfast, the dishes.
Patio clean-up, getting ready for winter in the middle of our October summer.
A trip to the grocery store. It’s easy to be quiet there until you get to the register. Then, a friendly cashier is confused about why I don’t respond to her “hello.” So I smile, point to my throat and mouth, “I’m sorry” and she says “hello” again. I look down at the pin pad and encourage it to tell me to “remove my card.”
Feed the puppy.
Chop vegetables. Toss in olive oil, salt and pepper for roasting.
I’m on dinner. The girls are out for a couple of hours.
Start the coals for the trout.
Wait. Quietly.
Respond to timers.
Welcome them home.
Eat.
Listen as my daughters describe their afternoon and then remember that I haven’t written a blog post for Monday.
Excuse myself to do so and realize upon leaving the table that I have long correlated silence and slowness. It’s just not so. Certainly not today.
A day like this is a wrinkle in the fitted sheet of normal life. I want to pull the corner tight but realize it just won’t come.
Silence isn’t slowness. Silence is space for listening.
I speak again on Monday. I hope I remember.
DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.
