falling

a close friend invited me to attend a play yesterday and i think it may have been the highlight of my entire year. it was amazing and i’m still working through its impact on my thoughts, actions, feelings – its impact on my life. the production was entitled “the night thoreau spent in jail” and it highlighted not only this particular night, but also his life and his relationship with his mentor, ralph waldo emerson. if webster’s were to define “out of the box,” they may do so by placing henry david thoreau’s photo next to the description. this man was incredible.

several statements from the production have become top of mind for me, but there is one that i’ve been working through over the past sixteen hours or so.

after a few interactions, henry and his brother john have both become intrigued and interested in a woman named ellen. and as henry discusses his brother’s love for ellen – with ellen – it is apparent that she has not been impressed. she was not impressed with john’s presentation, or more specifically, with his words (or lack thereof). in fact, at one point, she says that he hardly spoke. and that’s when henry responded. with both passion and compassion in his voice, he said, “you missed the eloquence of his silence.”

and at that very moment, my soul fell silent.

the play continued.

but i just sat there.

silent.

what am i missing?

and in my striving so hard not to miss things, am i missing everything?

(pause.)

has there been too much noise in my life?

in my soul?

(long pause.)

no more.

no more work. no more effort.

my soul knows.

my soul knows what it needs. it knows what it wants. it knows how to act.

why don’t i let it?

(pause.)

there is something so pure and sound and whole in the silence.

(pause.)

may my soul – today – fall silent again.