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Finding Silence

A reflection by Hannah Lamberth

Image: Nick Fewings on Unsplash


I walk in search of silence,

60 minutes with one instruction:

Quiet.

No washing machine shouting at me

to tell me it’s done;

No Amazon deliveries.

No phone call from school,

Desperately hoping it’s

“nothing to worry about!”

rather than

“Your child’s finger is pointing the wrong way

and you need to take them to A&E.”

No email notifications,

with another task to add to my to-do list.

No shouting from downstairs

as my deaf father-in-law

gives instructions

over the phone

of how to do online banking

to his even deaf-er sister.


Just 60 minutes.

With one instruction:

Quiet.


Except it seems

that the memo wasn’t

delivered.

Not to the cars in the distance,

nor to the planes in the sky,

nor to the workman fixing the lawnmower

with his drill

or the team who’ve chosen this moment

to chainsaw a fallen tree.

The memo wasn’t delivered

to the birds in the trees,

who are mid-choir practice

for tomorrow’s dawn chorus.

Or the sheep

who have evidently started a debate club

and have reached

the passionate conclusion of their arguments.


The memo wasn’t delivered

to the farmer with his plough,

nor the whistling of the passer-by.

And so my walk

in search of silence

feels impossible.

So. much. noise.

None of it louder

than the noise in my mind.

Of my to-do list,

my questions,

my embarrassments,

my failures,

the choices I need to make.

My regrets,

my pride,

my worry,

my question of

“Who am I?”

Did I mention my to-do list?

So how?

How do I escape the noise?

How do I stop and sit

and block. out. the noise?

The silence…

is deafening.


Hannah and Catherine chatted about this during an episode of the Loved Called Gifted podcast, which you can find a link to here (or you can just search for it on your favourite podcasting platform).

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