SILENCE
My wife is not particularly a chatty person or a busybody. In the silent mornings she adores, she thoughtfully structures her day, moving through it with intention and purpose. Being in a large house, isolated up on a hill with no human beings nearby, and with my wife the way she is and functions, I, too, experience ample silence throughout the day. After breakfast on our own, which has been the pattern for many years, I clear out of the house in seeking a more “extroverted” silence by going to a neighborhood café. Occasionally, my wife joins me on a café outing, as is the case today.
Since it is too cold for outdoor exercises for my Southern California-acclimated body, we opt for a gym in the late afternoon, three or four times a week. We are part of an online group that does a weekly health challenge here in Korea. Fourteen of us chose an exercise regimen that we set for a period of three months. If we miss the weekly goal we set, we pay a small penalty, which goes to a Christmas gathering fund. Last year, though, we only collected a little over 20,000 won (equivalent of $15). That showed how well we met our goals. Exercising in a gym is another kind of extroverted silence. I draw energy by being in a surrounding like this. I find it helpful that one of the signs the gym has is no phone engagement while sitting down on the exercise equipment. Being in touch with my body helps me feel more present and alive.
Afterwards, we would often swing by Hanaro Market and buy a few items for dinner or the next morning’s breakfast. I find that it is, oddly but not surprisingly, grounding to go to a market every day. My wife began to make her own yogurt after purchasing a home yogurt maker. As is the case with homemade yogurt, we are happy that Korea is known for a wide selection of slow foods. Silence and slow pair up well. After a few people gave us some prized Kimchi, which stands at the pinnacle of slow food, one section of our refrigerator is stocked full of Kimchi. I feel rich and happy. We often make dinner, with my specialty being soups and stews, and do the dishes together, followed by watching singing programs or dramas on Netflix in the evenings.
Routines keep us grounded and anchored. Now that we have Korean phone numbers and a bank account, which took dizzying, complicated effort, we are happy to stick with the mundane routines of the day. I told some friends in Korea that I could create an entire YouTube episode based on my experience. I discovered that, for long-term residents, even in an advanced and sophisticated country like Korea, one cannot function well without Korean phone numbers. Even I, as an ultra-spontaneous person, know that routines are necessary and helpful, like building blocks of life.
There is power and wisdom in silence and from silence. Silence creates and expands the capacity to listen, see, and notice things as they are, not as I am. While it is natural to see and listen through the filters of how we are wired and positioned, which means we are constantly filtering, there is profound wisdom in observing and listening to what truly is. Silence serves as the anchoring space when I meet with my directees, both one-on-one and in groups. I am continually amazed at how clearly God speaks and manifests during silence.
Perhaps there is little difference between the interspersed silence of daily life and the intentional silence we carve out for God and with God... Silence is God’s space. Every time we enter silence, we step into God’s presence. The dormancy of life and the monochrome of winter create a sense of deafening silence, even as I look at the frozen vast Bukhan River, amazed. The vibrancy of spring, the flourishing of summer, and the abundance of autumn give way to winter, marked by silence, and reminding us that silence is God’s way of working and speaking.