Finding Your Own Silent Night

Can you hear that? 

It’s a blissful sound.

Silence. 

I used to be super uncomfortable with quiet—especially in groups. I thought silence was awkward. And that somebody needed to fill it. 

But through coaching training, I learned just how powerful silence is. We were exposed to many powerful sessions with master coaches asking simple questions of a client and the quiet that followed as they let the question sit in the air. Often, they might let a question sit for four or five times longer than I would have—which then allowed their client to process, be with the opening, and hear what would come forward from inside themselves. 

Silence allows new things to emerge. 

It is generative. An invitation to possibility.

What might emerge from beautiful, delicious silence if we allow it? 

I love the silence when hiking. That silence seems particularly sacred because it’s held by the trees. All you can hear is the crunching of dried leaves and pine cones or the periodic flurry of a chipmunk or bird alighting on a branch.

And then there’s the silence of a long drive somewhere with my son or partner, as we simply sit together in the stillness of a car moving through space. 

I appreciate the silence when writing, when all I can hear is the hum of a heat pump warming the room and the clicking of the keys of my keyboard.

This world is so noisy, isn’t it? 

Some people love the bustle and busy sounds of a city in the background. Or the presence of a TV or music playing all day. I once had a colleague who loved talk radio when he was driving—even if he wasn’t listening to it or when he was talking to someone in the car. Those who appreciate that kind of hum say there’s something comforting in having chatter in the backdrop. 

It’s super easy these days to go from song to song, activity to activity, television show to television show. Have you noticed that streaming platforms don’t even wait for you to select the next episode or song? They automatically flow right in to the next one. With television shows, they even skip the introduction, so you get caught right up without a pause.

And then there’s social media—which I do enjoy and utilize, but that also invites noise into our lives. Some of that is entertaining, or fun, informative, or connecting, as when it comes to family members and friends and seeing what they’re doing out in the world. 

But it’s also contributing to the endless stream of chatter. 

It never stops. 

What might we be missing with all this noise? 

What are we not hearing if we don’t allow for silence? 

We’re coming into winter, and a season of many holidays. In this wintering time, I am trying to deepen my connection with quiet. Meditating every morning, yoga practice several days a week, and just sitting and being still as often as I can. And this includes choosing not to pick up my phone when I have that impulse and it’s sitting right there. 

Here’s the thing: We must also have silence to truly listen to someone else. We must allow quiet for others who may need reflection time in order to share what they are thinking. We need the space between notes to truly hear the music—to understand what’s on our mind and where we are. 

I am welcoming silence in and considering it a friend. 

I might consider, “Silence, what do you want to bring to me today?” 

And “When and where might I be more silent myself”? 

This time of year, I love listening to classic Christmas songs in my car. Whether it’s “Silver Bells” or “O Christmas Tree” or “The Little Drummer Boy,” I love to sing out loud along with Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra and Andy Williams and Peggy Lee. 

But when I stop the music and just sit with myself, that brings other, different and reflective moments. Moments that bring an invitation to possibility.

A coach friend shared a great quote about this from Ernest Hemingway recently: “It takes two years to learn to speak and sixty to learn to keep quiet.” 

I’m working on the keeping quiet part.

How about you? 

Where do you want to connect with deeper silence in your life?

And what might that quiet bring to you this holiday season?

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