The Sound of Silence
Life

I used to get up in the morning and immediately turn on the radio. In the afternoon, the TV would go on to check the weather and evening shows—and often stay on until bedtime.

Like most, over the Christmas holidays, I watched my share of Christmas movies, reruns of old favourites, and new finds. But when the New Year hit, I began to crave silence. After weeks of holiday movies and background noise filling every corner, I felt a pull towards simplicity—a refreshing stillness.

As my husband says, “You can hear a pin drop in Alberta.” Well, that’s somewhat of an exaggeration, but I’ve always been able to hear things that most wouldn’t. The way an engine makes a slightly different vibration than it should. Or when the refrigerator hums a little differently. Or, out of a dead sleep, I can hear Chace making noises.

Each morning, I’ve been blessed to have my first sips of coffee outside. Some days, I’m bundled in my puffy jacket and toque, but it has become a welcome ritual for Chace and me.

We listen to the raindrops, the birds chattering, and even the dog barking two streets over, trying to communicate with his fellow canines. “Ha, have you seen the black and white cat lately?”

In silence, I find space to breathe. It’s a blank canvas for thoughts, ideas, and even gratitude. I have seen ideas for my art and writing in the early morning silence. I’ve realized it’s not just the absence of noise—it’s the presence of peace.

Even in my studio, I now enjoy a quiet place to create, listening to my painting as it tells me what it needs. There’s something sacred about silence. It clears your mind of chatter, inviting new thoughts, ideas, and inspiration.

For now, I enjoy the sounds of silence.