Field Notes · No. 001
In Search
of Silence
Friends,
I’ve been in a new country for a week. Very little has felt new to me. I’ve come to find similarities between places. I’ve noticed houses with sharp-pitched roofs reminiscent of the northern landscapes of my childhood. People seeking peace and refuge in the local park. City centers filled with commuters, visitors, and beggars. How can there be familiarities in a place I’ve never been? I’m on a journey unlike anything I’ve ever done and each moment feels as it should be. This is the first time I’ve traded my fernweh nature for one of presence. I feel abundantly present and alive in every part of my day.
When I landed one of my bags was delayed, the case with all of my clothes. This was the moment where my human logic challenged my faith. As the hours passed I wondered if there was anything to be learned in not receiving one of my bags. Should I have brought less? Gotten rid of more? Is my luggage symbolic of some type of mistrust between me and God amidst this new venture? The plan was to come with basically nothing. By the time I finished packing up my house I was so tired of stuff, owning stuff, possessing stuff, getting rid of stuff. All of it was overwhelming and felt so useless compared to the journey I’m taking.
The theme of the trip so far has been faith. Accepting there is a divine plan for me being 5,000 miles away and how it all continues to happen. I’m learning to let go in a way that unexpectedly offers me more peace and security. God loves me for sure. I feel it each day. I’ve been taking walks in a park that reminds me of Tower Grove Park. I sat in front of a pond and walked past a Turkish-style pavilion. The breeze here is pleasant, light and featherlike, a cooling kiss against my skin reminding me of God’s blessing on my life. I’ve traded my fear for faith.
“I’ve traded my fear for faith.”
I’ve been asking God, with excitement and curiosity, “Why am I here?” I’m curious because the hard part is over. I’ve left everything familiar. Currently, I have no answer. His love has been present, voice still.
In Mass the homily pointed out we should seek silence to find the voice of God. Maybe that’s why I’m here. To find the silence. At home there was work, friends, and familiarity. There is a story in the Bible about the man who questioned how to get eternal life. He was told to get rid of all of his riches (Mark 10:17-22). I have been feeling very connected to this story. He walked away from the invitation. In contrast, I have tried to follow. Initially, I didn’t know I was seeking eternal life. I thought I was seeking freedom and that eternal life was reserved for death. Each day with all of my familiarities stripped from me feels like eternal life. It feels like peace and calm. Yet, I don’t know if I hear God’s voice louder.
My life still doesn’t feel quiet enough. I’m in search of self through silence or silence through self. I’m not sure which. How much more do I have to get rid of to hear? Am I allowed to have this feeling in the flesh? How long can I stay? How much will it cost? What’s the currency? I wonder if there is no end. Maybe each day I pay attention to my blessings, appreciate them, and express gratitude, the more they will multiply. I’ve already committed my life to God. Now I’m journeying to commit myself to his use.