Hushed

Louisa Ikena reflects on insights about quiet and stillness, including an original poem, as we usher in 2023.

The noise of this world can be overwhelming. I perceive it’s easy to become addicted to noise. It is everywhere, and it holds so many different forms. Which social media platform do I want to be distracted by today? What input am I receiving through my earbuds now?

My cross-country coach in high school used to say never wear earphones while running. First of all, it’s dangerous to not be aware of your immediate surroundings (this was very true in northwest Florida where I grew up because of snakes we encountered on our cross-country trails). Second, we need to be listening to our bodies during exercise. Earphones were not allowed during cross-country races, so they were definitely not allowed at my high school cross-country practices.

High school, for me, was more than 25 years ago. Today I walk for exercise most days. However, I regularly break my coach’s cardinal no-distraction rule by wearing earbuds. I’m just too tempted to multitask, and I frequently don’t really want to listen to what my body is saying during exercise. There is one exception I make to this practice: walking at night in my neighborhood. I wear my reflector vest and my head lamp, and I want to be tuned into the world around me. The quiet of a moonlit Pennsylvania night walk is truly refreshing. And I feel 1000% safer than if I were plugged in and distracted.

I know I need to unplug more regularly. There’s an often-forgotten commandment meant to keep holy the Sabbath day. I don’t know about you, but I am cut to the quick when I am reminded that I am called to unplug weekly. The commandment, like all of God’s commands, is meant to heal us, not hurt us. It is meant to grant rest, not add to our burdens.

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I did experience a recent retreat this past fall. It provided another call to unplug, which I answered imperfectly, yet I still answered.

One of my favorite ways to experience “hush” is to turn off all noise in my car while making short trips. Today, after Mass, I let the recessional hymn echo in my mind, and I refrained from turning on the car radio. The effect was amazing and refreshing and reinforcing of the Scriptural messages of today. A few of my most recent profoundly prayerful moments have occurred in the quiet of my car during a solitary drive. Instead of being flooded with noise, I am blessed with a flood of insight, creative ideas, and even the grace of forgiveness. On one memorable drive, the quiet was only broken by my whispered words, “I forgive you,” toward a loved one I hadn’t previously been able to forgive from my heart. Then and now I say Amen. Amen. Amen. Thank You, Lord!

The quiet of daily meditation is another form of this “hush.” I choose to begin my day with it. The quiet truly helps me in every way.

This year I aim to incorporate at least a little bit more quiet, stillness, and peace in my life than I did last year. And next year maybe I can aim to incorporate even more. I write these words on New Year’s Eve, so the new year is right around the corner. As always, I strive to live one day at a time.

Click to tweet:
I am cut to the quick when I am reminded that I am called to unplug weekly. #catholicmom

I’d like to end this article with a freestyle poem I wrote a few days ago on Christmas Day 2022. In the spirit of a silent night, on this holy night, I call it “Hushed.”

The world is hushed.
The noise and clamor cease.
For a moment, just for a moment.
Everyone catches their breath.
The stillness is palpable.
The external silence is not accompanied by internal silence.
But that’s OK.
We can experience and enjoy the moment,
Even knowing for sure it will not last.
And, most of all, knowing it is not perfect.
Progress, not perfection.
Jesus is born into this very imperfect world.
And, just for today, the world is hushed.

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