The need for silence.  We are all inundated by media, noise, chaos, and words almost constantly.  At some point these channels become overwhelming and the need for silence is undeniable.  The problem is that when in this flood stage it might be impossible to even remember silence is the thing that’s missing.

Since moving to NYC I’ve had plenty of time to myself, but taking time for silent prayer and reflection is very different from just having alone time.  Silence, while seemingly the most simple thing, requires a great deal of attention and intention to accomplish regularly.  First of all, it literally won’t happen if we don’t plan for it.  We have to schedule it in so that it becomes habitual and routine.  Secondly, it might not work best for us where we think it will.  For some it might work best in a Church while others may be more easily distracted in such a space.  In their case, maybe it’s a bench in the park or a nook in their home.  Wherever it is, we have to think about utilizing that location to solidify our connection to silence.

When I was in Dubuque, my “place” was always at the piano – sometimes playing it to clear my mind, and other times just at the piano bench in silence, but that place marked something sacred for me.  Since moving here, the only piano I have regular access to is in my living room where the television and computer are, so it isn’t necessarily the greatest “place” for me anymore.  I also love to sit in my rocking chair to reflect, but it’s also in my living room.  I haven’t really found my peaceful spot here yet, which brings me to the inspiration for this week’s song.

Last week, I found myself with a friend rambling on and on and on, and I realized later that I had been word-vomiting all the things that would have been released or relieved in prayer or silence had I taken the time for it that week.  We carry a lot, some things that will inevitably have to be released in conversation or therapy or prayer, and other things that perhaps can’t be released, but that can only be relieved in silence or meditation.

There is something indisputably healing in silence.  Perhaps it’s God or something greater than us at work.  When I was writing this song over the weekend I thought about a library as a sort of sanctuary of the scholar.  I used this image as a metaphor for the mind and all that is shelved there, much that is being used, and much that isn’t or shouldn’t.    When we are able to empty the shelves, we enter into the sanctuary of silence, and that’s where I want to go.  Take me there.

TAKE ME THERE

Always a myriad of words
Floating round and round my brain
Volumes of triumph
And chronicles pain
Verses long and verses short
Waiting restless on my heart

Strip the shelf, start anew
I’ll script this one only for you
I’ve plagiarized my final prayer
Only silence left to bear
Take me there

Deliver me from this senseless noise
No rhyme or reason
Just the the echo of my voice
O!

Strip the shelf, start anew
I’ll script this one only for you
I’ve plagiarized my final prayer
Only silence left to bear
Take me there

Upon a lake, serenity
Where only stillness waits for me
Where sounds disperse and quiet rests
Peace from the chaos
Peace at last

With only silence left to bear
Take me there