An Inward Stillness
From Music and the Spoken Word
Delivered By: Lloyd D. Newell • Program 4227
Noise seems to be a constant part of modern life. Everywhere we go, for much of the day, we hear clatter and clamor, jangle and din. Though there are times when we long for peace and quiet, for many noise has become a habit. Perhaps we enter an empty room and turn on the radio or television to fill the emptiness. In our homes, offices, cars, and every other place, we feel the urge to block the silence with sound.
Of course, sound can be glorious and inspiring. It can enlighten and entertain. It can inform and educate. But it can also dull our senses and distract us from that which is meaningful. It can be a way of escaping our own thoughts.
Silence can be a source of strength, inspiration, and renewal. Stillness gives us a chance to tune into our heart, to hear our own deepest thoughts and feelings.
Taking time for silence is not as easy as it sounds, though. If we try to be still, to tune into peace and quiet, we may think we’re wasting time—time that could be more productively used. But by tuning the world out, even if only for a moment’s pause, we learn to really hear. Our thoughts may turn to others who need our concern. We may think more of everlasting things—of faith, family, and other timeless values. We may ponder more on the purpose of life. Put simply, silence gives us an opportunity to focus more fully on the things in life that truly matter.
The beloved poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote:
An inward stillness and an inward healing;
That perfect silence where the lips and heart
Are still, and we no longer entertain
Our own imperfect thoughts and vain opinions,
But God alone speaks in us, and we wait
In singleness of heart, that we may know
His will, and in the silence of our spirits,
That we may do His will, and do that only!1
1 John Endicott, act 1, scene 3, in The New-England Tragedies (1868), 21.
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