The Island of Silence

By Marcia Rotella –

Through the automatic doors and into the lavish chair I lose myself in the cherished tranquility of the morning, and this morning finds me in a public library. Before long, I notice I could hear silence again–so longed for, precious and rare–an island of sorts.  I love this island, my island of silence, where I always feel so at home.

Why do my mind and heart war so endlessly against each other? One pulls in the direction of noise and distraction, the other craves quiet and calm.

But today I choose to give in to the desires of my heart, its longings for all that speaks of home and its craving for silence. Oh, how my heart loves silence, that peaceful escape from the world’s dictates and fancies, the clock’s ticktock, people’s push and shove, and my mind’s relentless lists and bullying agendas.

Why does the world seem to conspire against silence? From technology to knowledge, traditions to modern-day cultures, why does it all contradict silence? Even here, in a library, conspirators are arriving threatening to invade my special retreat.

Why are people so noisy? Why must we constantly demand attention and crave to be heard? Even as I write this I am aware that I too am lured by the desire to be heard, for these thoughts of mine to move on from my mind, past ink on paper, reaching at least one reader, one listener, one congenial heart.

Whatever happened to the strict rules of silence in a library? Not even librarians lead by example anymore. As if that wasn’t enough, two unrestrained mouths have arrived, now making it impossible for me to hear my own voice.

And so, I must move on, on to my quest for silence, once again with the same echoing question whirling in my mind. Will I find my island? Can she possibly be hidden somewhere in this modern place?

I proceed to the second floor with the use of an elevator which seems quite alluring behind closed doors. I stand alone in this quiet box of sorts and there is that beautiful sound again, silence. But rambunctious doors open abruptly, shoving me out into the noise again where I’m forced to continue my adamant exploration.

Through the open spaces, the multitudes of eyes transfixed on hypnotic computer screens, I see a familiar  beckoning chair nestled in another promising retreat, but a quick glance past the plush temptress reveals how stopping here would result in settling for less than my heart’s true longings. I see a perfectly white sign, a flag of surrender, a glimmer of hope, which I could swear seemed to sing to me, “Quiet Room.”

There she is; my beautiful peaceful island which I voyaged across tumultuous seas to find. Could it be? Is this a delusion brought on by the pulling and tossing of boisterous waves? No, it’s real, my island is in plain view, and I am not delirious after all. My wish is granted in spite of seeming unreal, but real or not, I’d still be inclined to walk right into such delusions.

Past the glass door I see peaceful occupants–reading, writing, thinking, and dreaming–and I hear my voice again. I know that I belong here, on this island with them, my new-found family of sorts, kindred hearts, lovers of silence, together at home in a public library.

I’d go on writing about this special voyage but I’ve anchored into another captivating seat and the silence is now so rich that even something as liberating as writing might threaten to rob me of such rare treasure.

I must go for now. I want nothing more than to lose myself in this luscious island of comfort where I could look beyond the wall-to-wall glass and stare at the emerald landscape, fluttering butterfly, and white-feathered friends who wave goodbye as they soar across the endless turquoise sky. Or is it a sea? Such details disappear here.

From here I could see the shoreline that separates us lovers of silence from those who settle for the frantic madness that comes with the demands of noise. From this translucent island, I can feel my heart smiling again and now my mind too has complacently surrendered to the enticing charm.

Mind and heart, soul and spirit, in the silence we’re all one, once again at home.

After marrying in 1985, Marcia dreamed of one day being a stay-at-home mom. For 20 years now she has been living out her dream.  She is still married to her college sweetheart and loves being the mother of two young adults she calls her babies. She enjoys blogging as a creative expression of her greatest passion–to minister the love of God through encouragement while sharing the simple joys of making a home. You may visit Marcia’s blog, One Heart at Home, at: http://homeiswhereoneheartis.blogspot.com.