Haiti is in the news as the site of the latest big natural disaster. Hundreds of thousands of lives have been lost, and the devastation to that half-island nation’s infrastructure compounds the suffering. There have been disasters in other parts of the world, too, and surely more will follow.
That realization reminds us just how lucky we are. Imagine if we were to lose 1,000 people in Sonoma from some sudden event and its immediate aftermath. Family, friends, neighbors, schoolmates. That’s what the toll in Haiti would be like here, in our little Valley.
It’s interesting to note how quickly and powerfully we want to help victims of natural disasters. Just that very urge is an unconscious, subconscious acknowledgement that somehow we’re connected with those people. People we’ll never meet. People in a culture very different from our own.
We mentioned one loss to our community last week, and two others have been felt, as well. Nancy Bauer, 80, and Reg Alexander, 85, active in their own ways, were generous and wise, understanding that relationships and service are what really matter. How do we show our respect for them, and for others we have lost? With a moment of silence.
Something like this:
Odd, wasn’t it, to see that big gap? To experience the sudden stop in words? That’s what the moment of silence does. It grabs our attention, so accustomed are we to constant chatter. “Words, words, words,” as an exasperated Eliza Doolittle put it in “My Fair Lady.”
Where is there silence, really? We have the TV on, we’ve got our iPods plugged in and the Internet won’t stop begging for our attention. Plus, of course, there’s the constant running monologue from our own minds. Making judgments and justifying ourselves. Silence! It’s hard to come by, at least in our culture.
So it’s in our nature to care about others, to feel their suffering in some way, as though it were our own. And if we look at the proverbial big picture, it is our own. The moment of silence is only a hint at what it takes to gain that larger perspective. It takes real silence to listen. Not to worry about what we’ll say or how we’ll look in our busy, interactive lives, but actually … to listen.
What’s there to listen to, one might ask? The peaceful people, like our friend and columnist Jeff Low, might say, “Your heart.” Others might call it, “Universal Consciousness.” King James’ scholars wrote, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Evidently, some find plenty to listen to. But silence is the first step. Be still, be silent, be available to hear – really hear – what your heart is telling you.
Can you free up seven minutes? Of course you can, out of the thousand you have every day. Set the alarm on your cell phone for seven minutes hence, and then sit upright, close your eyes and simply listen to your breathing.
We’re headed there, right after deadline. Silence, in which to cherish our common humanity. In our view, that’s the important message.
