I happen to love quiet. I loved the book “Quiet” by Susan Cain, about being an introvert, as I am very much an introvert. I am home a lot now taking care of my husband, and he sleeps a lot, so it’s quiet. My kitty can be very vocal, but Little Bear also sleeps a lot, so . . . a lot of quiet. My office is quiet as it’s just me and one client in a quiet building. Pamela is often at work but has her own floor in the house and she is very quiet. All three of us have often chosen quiet and alone time in our lives.

And yet, in the stillness, there is so much. No one is stirring in the house right now. Laundry isn’t going. No TV right now. I hear the air filter gently whirring. The trees outside my window are still in the gray sky – which I also love. The air conditioner just came on. I hear my fingers on the keyboard of my laptop. There’s the ringing in my left ear. And there’s the essence of the house itself, breathing, living, holding us.

I’ve been finding it difficult to get a lot done at home. Yes, there’s a lot of stress with an ill loved one. But I rest a lot, I take time off, I putter, I swim when I can. I don’t feel burned out. I don’t even feel tired a lot of the time. I would just rather sit with the quiet than race around accomplishing things like I used to.

For so many years, I didn’t have the house to myself. Someone was always awake when I was, the TV was always on, and when I came home everyone was around, cooking, eating, occupying house space with me. Now I have the house to myself most of the time. Or the house is quiet most of the time.

It’s not so much that I don’t want to do anything, it’s that what I yearn to do is just enjoy the silence. Let it surround me. Listen to what it holds. Notice how it feels. Breathe in the stillness. To me, this is the ultimate luxury: to sit in the quiet until I am filled. Until I am ready to move onto the next thing. To give myself the gift that is total peace and love – for myself.

And when the silence is broken, I am okay with it. I am filled with a reservoir of calm from my time in the quiet. And I know I will revisit the silence soon. I will slip into bed under the covers and take a breath, call on my guides, release the day . . . and be one with the quiet once again.