Yesterday, as I backed out the driveway on my way to attend an evening event, I clicked on the radio to catch the last bit of news for the day. I’m not a big music person, but when I’m driving I’ll often listen to the news or a talk show on NPR, much to my teenagers’ chagrin, and during my hour-long commute to and from Omaha once a week for my part-time job, I typically have a podcast playing in one earbud.
Yesterday, though, a few seconds after I’d turned the radio on, I clicked it off again and instead rolled down my window and drove the rest of the way to my destination in silence.
A brief shower had swept through the south part of town. As I drove I breathed in the scent of rain steaming off the hot pavement. I let the wind have its way with my hair and felt the humid breeze on my face. As I idled at a traffic light, I heard the steady whine of crickets in the field and the piercing call of a red-tailed hawk from its perch atop a telephone pole.
I realized it had been a long time since I’d driven with the radio off and the earbuds out of my ears.
It was only a 20-minute drive from my house to where I was headed, but when I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed my whole demeanor had changed. My mind was free of clanging thoughts. My pulse was slow and steady, my breathing even, my hands relaxed on the steering wheel.
Later that night, when I mentioned in an Instagram post how much I had enjoyed my silent drive, a friend commented that a year or so ago she’d made a conscious decision to drive with the radio off. “It’s amazing how much more margin I have in my life now,” she said.
Initially I was puzzled by her comment. After all, 15 or 20 minutes of silence is but a drop in the bucket of a typical busy day. How could so little quiet create “more margin” in her life overall, I wondered?
As I thought about my own quiet drive just a few hours before, though, I recalled how I’d slid out of the driver’s seat and ambled unhurriedly across the parking lot, noticing, as I walked, the clouds billowing on the horizon.
I remembered how I’d paused for a few seconds to listen to a meadowlark trill from the prairie grass nearby.
I considered the fact that I’d been noticeably less distracted in my interactions that night, more present to the people with whom I’d engaged.
Our lives are filled with a lot of noise. The clatter of the television, radio and social media. The barrage of advertising. The beeps, dings and ringtones from our smart phones, alerting us to a text, a Facebook comment, a tweet. The back-to-back-to-back meetings at work, the conference calls, the webinars.
So accustomed are we to its constancy, we don’t realize how much this relentless noise and distraction taxes our bodies, minds and souls.
We also don’t notice how much space this constant noise occupies, how it is infused into every facet of our days, how it even impacts how we move and who we are in this world.
Spending even a few minutes in silence has an immediate and discernable impact on our own physical and mental health, to be sure. But as our less distracted, more present selves step back into the world at large, it’s clear the few minutes of silence we take for ourselves also have a ripple effect, reverberating from ourselves into our environment and out toward those around us…perhaps reverberating from them still further, on and on, in wider and wider circles.
It seems, then, that perhaps the few minutes of silence we take for ourselves aren’t just for ourselves after all. As our calmer, more present, more attentive selves step back into our families, our neighborhoods, our workplaces, our communities, those few minutes of silence are making way for a kinder, more compassionate, more spacious world.
…So tell me: do you ever drive with the radio off? What’s your favorite way to enjoy a few minutes of silence?
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I’m not much of a music person either, but a couple years ago, I, too, started turning off NPR so I could have some peace of mind. I don’t often drive silent, but I do turn on the classical music station which has a similarly soothing effect on me.
Depending on the piece (the “militaristic” classical pieces make me tense!), classic music definitely has a soothing effect on me. Sometimes I que it up on Spotify for quiet background music when I am working.
Michelle,
I feel like I might have been in the car with you looking out the window!
About four years ago after my husband had heart surgery, we quieted and slowed our whole life down in all the places and pockets. Turning off the radio was one of those pockets of quiet for me. Like you are suggesting, that quiet opened up space in me and my day. I found I was thirsty for the silence.
Back then, I didn’t tell myself it was forever. I have slowly brought back podcasts and music playing on my phone sometimes, but not the radio. I haven’t missed it.
Your words reminded me to keep the quiet.
Terri
That’s exactly it: pockets of quiet, as you say. It doesn’t have to be hours and hours – sometimes a few minutes works wonders. Thanks for sharing your thoughts here, Terri!
We homeschool our kids, so I have them with me most of the time. On the rare occasion that I am in the car by myself, while I sometimes take advantage of being alone to roll the windows down and blast some favorite songs, more often lately I find myself keeping the music off and just enjoying the quiet. As you said, I can see the difference in my whole mindset afterward–for me it’s not just the silence but being completely alone that helps so much.
Michelle, I so enjoyed this post. I love driving with music blasting but some days … ahh, the bliss of silence. Even at home, when the TV has been on way too long, once it shuts off, I so enjoy the silence, the stillness. I call it “sensory overload”. I do believe we have been wired for times of silence. Maybe that’s why Scripture tells us “Be still and know that I am God.”
Thank you for sharing your experience reminding us of how important it is to stop and be in the moment, the silence. This reminds me of a story by Brother Lawrence wrote a book, whose title now escapes me. But Brother Lawrence in the 1700’s was called to ministry and his first task was to cut the lawn, with a scissors. At first he was very frustrated, annoyed with his thoughts, his thoughts of how stupid this task was how ridiculous how long it’s going to take him. But once his angry thoughts were quieted after quite some time, he started to hear the specific sounds of the grass clipping and realized that everything was so profound around him.
Quiet moments I am fortunate to create each day, and if I miss them, I crave them, it’s as though I can’t live without them now. But I do love podcasts and music to pump up my workouts, the silence restores me in the chaos of mundane tasks.
Imagine how much you would be missing if you had kept the ear bud in?!
I remember as a teen turning the radio on in the kitchen, and my mom would always turn it off and say, “How can you think when there is constant noise?” So to this day, my go to is quiet. And how much more calming it is. Not that I don’t enjoy some music or a podcast in the car, especially on that all day car ride, but I can only listen for so long and then I need some quiet. My mom turned out to be right. It is hard to think with constant noise. My best thinking is done in quiet. And it has become my got to.
I’m with you, Michelle … here’s to wider margins and more spacious white space. Over time, I’ve purposefully created that refreshing atmosphere in my home and my blog.
I can breathe again …
Interesting where the margins in our lives are even found and how much or how little time it takes to gain that margin back.
I drive sometimes with the radio off and I don’t even pay attention,( I’m noticing..) to how much I really love it. Sometimes I’ll let God speak to me during that time and I’m realizing that it’s not enough.maybe I need to do it much more often. I work in my car , at least for the mfirst xt week – but having done it like clockwork for the past year, I suppose it’s time for a new turn.
I’ll consider that.
Thanks fo sharing.
Jennifer