Get Really Quiet

Listen to a part of yourself that wants to speak

Australian native hibiscus flowers at Evergreen. Looking at a flower can help you get really quiet.

I go to the dentist to get my teeth fixed, but my last visit gave me a spiritual bonus.

After giving my name at the desk to the receptionist whose teeth were obviously made in heaven, I sat in the waiting room. Its decor reminded me of an elegant Parisienne salon (not that I’ve ever been in one). Although I knew from experience that through the door to my left were the usual collection of needles, drills, scrapers, and forceps, I settled into the posh surroundings and tried to forget all that. The chair I’d selected was upholstered in gold velvet, the small table before me was glass-topped, and sitting on the table was a small book entitled, I Am Her.

An intriguing title. I picked it up.

The book was written and compiled by M H Clark. It contained poetic snippets, inspiring quotes, and thought-provoking questions, accompanied by beautiful, soft illustrations. I settled further into my plush seat and hoped the client currently reclining with mouth open in the chair behind the door to my left needed a lot more work done than the dentist had at first thought.

Something I read struck me so much that I dragged out the spiral notebook I always have in my bag for such moments, and wrote it down. The quote was from Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy, aka SARK, an acclaimed author, artist, speaker, and teacher:

If she got really quiet and listened, new parts of her wanted to speak.

I wouldn’t describe myself as a loud person. I’m never the life of the party. I tend to slink into and out of rooms with a soft shuffle, most people none the wiser. But I must admit that my mind makes a lot of noise, audible only to me. Outwardly I’m quiet; inwardly I’m a cacophony of thoughts. My mind is seldom quiet, let alone really quiet.

Kennedy’s quote had two parts to it:

1. Be really quiet

2. Listen

The first part I understood: Get really quiet by letting go of my internal chatter.

But the second part momentarily stumped me: Listen to new parts of me that want to speak.

How do I do that? What would I be listening to?

I chewed the end of the pen in that classy waiting room mulling over this until my name was called three times. Then I was escorted through the door to my left and entered a world where my internal noise was for many minutes overridden by the high-pitched whine of a dental drill.

When I got home, I went and sat in the garden with my notebook containing the quote. The chair here wasn’t fancy – just a rough wooden plank with two wooden stumps for legs. But it sufficed, and there was no door to my left behind which dental drills whirred. I could relax.

I reread the quote, making it personal:

If I get really quiet and listen, I will hear a new part of me that wants to speak.

My mouth and mind speak. What new part of me can and wants to speak?

I wanted to find out, so I got really quiet.

I let thoughts drift in and out of my mind without holding onto them or following them down familiar, repetitive, mentally noisy pathways.

I listened to birdsong and to the wind moving through the garden.

I listened to my breathing.

Then I listened to myself. Not my mind-self but my deeper, higher, lighter self which has been with me since the day I was conceived.

This part of me didn’t use words.

It was just a pool of peace out of which timeless awareness flowed.

This part of me is where I let go of my beliefs and step away from my ego. It's where my heart is open and I'm free of fears.

This part of me has been quietly waiting a long time for me to listen.

A quiet and peaceful love-in-a-mist flower at Evergreen.

With love, Marlane