The Sound of Silence

Silence can be many things.

Calming relief after a day of constant, loud noise.

The welcoming sigh of quiet after hours of children's voices singing the wonder of this world they are discovering.

Relaxing in a hammock with only the distant sounds of the wind and nature. (My absolute favorite)

Loud in the snow, laying on my back, watching the soft flakes of magical ice float down from the sky, dancing across streetlights.

Alarming when it's quiet and there should be the playful hum of children.

Painful when my voice is silenced.

Heart wrenching and heavy after hard, lifechanging events.

Horrifying, like the anticipation of walking through a haunted house waiting for something to jump out at me.

Somber when remembering a loved one lost.

Getting this website up and running has been a hard thing for me. For several reasons. One of them was my fear of silence.

If people don't like what I have to say and tell me so, then I at least know someone was listening.

If no one says anything then I feel invisible and utterly alone.

Unseen.

I rather people say bad things.

Fortunately, I've gotten overwhelmingly positive feedback. Those voices are like cool water after a long run. Soothing and healing.

Thank you for being here.

Thank you for taking a step towards hard conversations.

Thank you for walking through the awkward with me. That awkwardness is vulnerability, and "vulnerability is the birthplace of connection."

Let's make connections. Let's do hard things.

I want to make waves like a boat cutting through the stigmas in our culture.

Come make waves with me.