Welcome back to Life with Morgan! Since the last time I wrote, as Katy mentioned, an awful lot of nothing has happened. And I mean that quite literally. I was supposed to ring in 2022 with several friends coming in from America, but COVID-19 had other plans. So, instead, I zoomed with Sammie and Katy for a countdown to midnight followed by a socially-distanced bonfire party of 2. On the bright side, I had some remarkably good champagne (Thanks Mrs. Van Norstrand!).
In this time of quarantine, with roommates in and out of isolation (and also the country), I was in dismay about the lack of college-friend-reunions. As I reflect on this time now, however, I still see the heartache, but amidst the disappointment, strands of peace and rest are intertwined. In these times I actually experienced true silence and became painfully aware of how quickly I’ve been moving through life since arriving in Dublin.
On New Year’s Eve, I walked the famous Howth Cliff Walk alone, with the hope of bringing the silence I had been experiencing in Dolphin’s Barn with me. But the children and the dogs and the birds and the other hikers had other plans for me. I expected to be alone with my thoughts, hearing only the wind that caressed my face and the sound of my feet strutting across rock and dirt. I had been reflecting on Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.” I was hoping to, quite literally, be still and hear God in the silence of my heart and my surroundings. But instead, my silence was invaded by foreign barking, crying, cooing, talking, and laughing.
At that moment, I became quite tense, feeling that my ‘main character moment’ was being ruined by the noise of restlessness. If you’ve ever been particularly prayerful in Mass and had your peace interrupted by the sound of a screaming child, or a bus passing by, or a car honking, that’s a pretty accurate depiction of how I felt. The distractions were an invasive species in my brain, and I was angry at the noises around me and the people and things that were making them.
Then I watched an episode of Ted Lasso (surprise! I bet you were wondering when the quote would come in). In this episode, there is a beautiful scene, one of my favorites in the entire series, in which Ted gives a powerful speech, which includes this excerpt:
Guys have underestimated me my entire life and for years I never understood why – it used to really bother me. But then one day I was driving my little boy to school and I saw a quote by Walt Whitman, it was painted on the wall and it said, ‘Be curious, not judgmental.’ I like that.
Be curious, not judgmental. While watching the show, I realized that in those moments in which silence was interrupted, I became judgmental. And we’ve all been there. Going back to the screaming child in church, I’m sure at some point in our lives, we’ve thought, “Man, where are their parents?” I was judgmental in the barking, I was judgmental in the crying, and I was judgmental in the laughing and talking.
We went to Poolbeg Lighthouse this past Friday, and on our way back we stopped and journaled for a while. Being a person who seldom remembers to bring anything (in this case, a pen), I decided instead to sit on the ground, criss-cross-applesauce, and practice mindful breathing with the hope of leaning into the silence surrounding me. Less than a minute had passed before the first family walked past us, a child laughing with his mother and the father following closely behind them.But instead of jumping to judgment, I leaned into the sound with curiosity. I began searching for God in the disruption. With every passing biker, dog-walker, and bird alike, I asked the question, “How is God working through this noise?”
Being in a house of 4, true silence is a novelty. I begin every morning with yoga, and I used to respond to outside noises with judgment. But recently, I’ve met the chatter, music, and creaks of the house with the same curiosity I chose at Poolbeg. With an open heart and an open mind, we can hear God in any situation. The sounds now remind me of the joy of community. They remind me that I’m not alone. And they remind me that God is at work in us all.
Mother Teresa once offered a reflection on the “Be still and know that I am God” verse, saying
“We need to find God, and He cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature; the trees, flowers, and grass grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence. We need silence to be able to touch souls.”
Although I love Mother Teresa, I have to respectfully disagree. Although God is a friend of silence, He’s also a friend of noise and restlessness. And though true silence does provide an opportunity for internal discernment and reflection, noise equips us with a unique opportunity for child-like curiosity to find God in everyday life. And though we need silence to be able to touch souls, we also need noise to change hearts.
As I move through life, I hope that I can embrace the power of noise. I hope that I can meet the pitter patter of everyday life with joyful curiosity. I hope that, as I experience the sounds of life, I can be curious, not judgmental.
Blue skies,
Morgan
