Leaning In

Leaning into the sun this summer, brushing against nettles, and walking in silence around stone circles, I have taken some time to stand in my body, to take off my shoes.

Leaning into silence takes trust, especially when there is a part of you that is afraid of the quiet, afraid of what you will hear, or afraid of what you will remember or who you are.

In this silence, the whole world is pregnant with what could be. Silence is what time offers when it has space embedded into it. Silence is turning down the must do's and belonging entirely to yourself.

Issuing silence an invitation is difficult. Silence does not like to be summoned and she doesn't like mess or noisiness or haste or forgetfulness.

Silence is not the lack of sound but space filled with possibility.

Silence and I have been becoming more familiar with one another and we have been making plans.

Together we lie, bruised in the morning light, and choose to wake slowly without rushing to commit to anything other than being.

Instead, we lie together and ask the day to come to us. We watch the light as it lifts on up over the yellow quilt and comes to rest on the peachiness of our summer skin. We let the intimacy of this moment heighten.

When she is ready, we make coffee together, and whilst it slow brews we sit together, cross-legged, naked by the window, on the earth.

We like to drink our coffee together with a good and yet difficult book. Together we pause to mull over a sentence, to let the words drop in. We challenge each other to think through each sentence and to feel their heaviness, their weight.

Silence and I watch the ripples as the words sink beneath the surface and we give each other time to digest what is true to us and also, what does not matter.

There are no phones, or radios, or television. No voices. Only the sound of gulls above the city circling their way out, investigating the world beyond Leith. Sometimes you can hear water running down deep pipes into the basement and beneath the ground.

That is it. Just the flushing of this small city.

Cultivating a friendship with silence is no easy task, after all, she has her dark side, and to be honest, I am sometimes very afraid of her. Sitting with her can be incredibly uncomfortable as she is sharp and witty and all the things I am not. She also is straight up and tells me things that no one else would. Things that sting. Sometimes she makes me want to cry but she is never mean. She is just soul-revealing.

She also encourages me to be better than I was yesterday and to commit myself to the work that is mine to do. She pushes me when I falter and reminds me that I, like you, are an important part of the world.

You know although she is challenging to be around, I really do like her. She is honest and compassionate, dislikes gossip, and is measured. She speaks when there is something to say.

She is someone that I am keen to get to know, in her presence I am able to feel free and whole, never small. I do believe that I am going to commit to spending more time with her. To choose her.

With her, I really do think that I will make what is good, better.

(I hope that you are finding pockets of silence in your summer - when we break silence I hope that we can do it together).