Rain is pouring down again on this November weekend and storm forbids to take up the intended walk. I stand by the window with the mug in my hand waiting for the tea to get well-tempered. Everything is fine. My mind drifts. Jauntily I watch the small streams running on the window pane, listen to the gusts which shake them in their frame. I feel secure and quiet.There remains not much to be done today and time lying ahead of these otherwise silent hours is plenty.
The old days of doubt have gone. Just a few years ago a deep unrest would have spread all over me on such a boring Saturday. I was not ready yet to listen to my loudly thinking self . Silence would have stirred up such an inner turmoil that I couldn’t help myself but fight the blaring stillness. I had to disrupt my mind with outer voices. I would eagerly listen to any body or machine who could help me shut down my own crude thinking.
But I don’t do that any more. Nowadays I make deliberate decisions. “Will I let myself go the sweet path of light-hearted distraction or will I just cope quietly with myself?” One day I began to realize that these boring dark November stretches enclosed a very special power. The endless time switched from a dread to a mere gift. The bore became a chance for healing, the precious space of time allowed myself a regenerating rest.
And by and by I could esteem the power these days hold and I accepted the darkness of November with a silent comfort.
Maybe today you could also ease in to your sofa, allow yourself some dreams and let your thoughts go free and wild as ever they will flow? Enjoy your silent, dark November weekend. Have a nice cup of tea.