Mountain Man can tell you I love to talk. Chatter is really a more appropriate description. Kind of like a magpie who can go on and on and on. When I finally see Mountain Man's eyes glaze over and hear his "Yes Dears" become more frequent, then I know I've exhausted even his most patient listening capabilities.
And, my chatter isn't limited to Mountain Man. I gab away to the horses and the dogs and let's be honest, even to myself.
Lately I've been experiencing writer's block. I sit down to write every day, fingers poised above the keyboard waiting for some words to flow, but what I write is worthy only of the delete button.
What happens when a writer can't write? And, why can't I write because I sure can talk? What to do? Where to go?
As I always do when I'm in need of answers, I wandered Red Pine Mountain where we are now enjoying beautiful summer days. Perhaps if you've never lived in a harsh winter climate, you don't realize how fleeting summer time can be. When July rolls around, we, who live in this winter pararadise, are already marking the days on the calendar until the the first frost.
When I began my walk, at first I was my usual chattering self. I stopped to speak to Mountain Man at work on a new project, I spoke to the dogs busy at play in the yard, the snake crawling across my path. Oh, I was as noisy as the blue jays who now surround our feeder. But then, an idea came into my cacophonous brain. What if I just stayed silent? Could I do it?
No, it wasn't easy. At first, I really struggled. I said one last prayer and gave myself an ultimatum. The time for silence starts NOW. I began my walk again. And, as I allowed myself to be filled with the sights of silence, a most beautiful miracle occurred. God allowed me to see His handiwork all around me in a way I have never experienced it before.
Here were three nests lined up in the rafters of a lumber shed while two mama robins worked gathering worms nearby, there were beautiful blossoms on a tree, in the pasture my horses were grazing and off in the distance beautiful vistas now lush and green.
There is something profound about silence. It's much more than an empty void of nothingness. But I've been uncomfortable in that void lately, and I've rushed to fill it with mindness chatter.
I believe at any given moment in time, we are exactly where we are meant to be. We can stagnate, we can fight, we can chatter the day away aimlessly, but if we open our hearts and stand quietly in the majesty of creation then maybe, just maybe, the message we need to learn will become clear.
Here are some of the sights of silence on Red Pine Mountain:
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