The Sounds of Silence

It had been a rainy summer day on the lake; sprinkling rain, down pouring rain and even thunder.   Great day for a roaring wood fire, and we did that.  Great day for board games, and we did that, too.  At bedtime, the clouds had still not dissipated.  Frank called me down to the lake; I had to see it, he said.  He was right.

The thick gray and shadowy clouds at 9:00 p.m. hovered just over my head as I stood on the dock.  I had never heard silence so deep.  Does silence have a sound?  It did.  It was like a humming; the silence had its own distinct and unique humming sound.  “This silence is deafening,” is all I could think.  “The sounds of silence” from a Paul Simon song were instantly grasped.  

An occasional frog croaked in the distance.  We saw the lights from one camp…one camp on the entire lake.  It felt surreal, other worldly to be so alone and so quiet.  And yet, just three hours north of Portland, we were completely alone, surrounded by the depth of nature, only animals and weather.  So close, and yet further away than I’d ever been.  

Photo:  Loon Lake, Rangeley, ME

1,000 Marbles

I was cleaning out my desk at the office and tucked into the back of a top drawer I found a small glass jar of marbles and this story, given to me several years ago by a dear colleague. Reading it at least annually (if not weekly) is encouraged….

The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings.  Perhaps it’s the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it’s the unbounded joy of not having to be at work.  Either way, the few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.

A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other.  What began as a typical Saturday morning turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time.  Let me tell you about it.

I turned the volume up on my radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning talk show.  I heard an older sounding chap with a golden voice.  You know the kind, he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business himself.  He was talking about “a thousand marbles” to someone named Tom.  I was intrigued and sat down to listen to what he had to say.

“Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you’re busy with your job.  I’m sure they pay you well but it’s a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much.  Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet.  Too bad you missed your daughter’s dance recital.”  He continued, “Let me tell you something, Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own priorities.”  And that’s when he began to explain his theory of “a thousand marbles.”

“You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic.  The average person lives about 75 years.  I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about 75 years.  Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3,900 which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime.  Now stick with me, Tom.  I’m getting to the important part.”

“It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about this in any detail,” he went on,” and by that time, I had lived through over 2,800 Saturdays.  I got to thinking that if I lived to be 75, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy.  So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had.  I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round up 1,000 marbles.  I took them home and put them inside of a large, clear plastic container right here in my workshop next to the radio.  Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away.  I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life.  There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help you get your priorities straight.”

“Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast.  This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container.  I figure if I make it until next Saturday, then God has blessed me with a little extra time to be with my loved ones…..It was nice to talk to you, Tom.  I hope you spend more time with your loved ones, and I hope to meet you again someday.  Have a good day!”

You could have heard a pin drop when he finished.  Even the show’s moderator didn’t have anything to say for a few moments.  I guess he gave us all a lot to think about.  I had planned to do some work that morning, then go to the gym.  Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss. “C’mon, honey.  I’m taking you and the kids to breakfast.”  

“What brought this on?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, nothing special,” I said.  “It has just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together with the kids.  Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we’re out? I need to buy some marbles.”

                                                                                                Author Unknown

…..gotta go…..have a great day!

Photo:  my gift from my colleague, Ruth.  I get it.

Kids' Creativity

I believe creativity is a part of every person’s DNA.  Each of us has a creative thread which may present with the obvious – music, art, writing, sculpting – but goes as broadly as:  scrap booking, decorating one’s home, cooking, baking, painting rooms, gardening, flower arranging.  Creativity takes many forms; it’s a normal outlet for all people and when acknowledged and allowed to flourish leads to someone who is more of a total human being honoring all aspects of himself. 

The only way to discover one’s creativity is to try lots of things.  You never know what’s going to click and bring you joy.  The other way is to have some quiet, alone time to dabble.  We will never find our true selves, our true calling, our true nature if we remain wired into technology and surrounded by noise and other people day and night.

It was easier for me as a mother of introverts, whose natural tendency is to crave some alone and quite time, to allow my sons the space to discover their creativities.  As mothers, I think this is something very important that we allow to peek out from our childrens’ souls.  It doesn’t matter if the child shows great talent at it, although I find that if music is your passion, it’s likely you are good at it.  Otherwise, the act of doing it wouldn’t be joyful to you.  

Creativity is one aspect of a whole person.  It doesn’t have to take over all they are, but why I advocate allowing it to grow and bloom within children is that as they age, it may be a hobby that will fill their time in a positive way because they may be practicing (and thereby in kind of a meditative state), their self-confidence will increase as they improve, and their stress levels will diminish by being released from the rigors of their young lives and swept away alone in this way.  Creating is such a release. 

My son and a friend, under the band name Kid’s Gotta Do, have released a CD titled  Parade.  Watching them create it, bit by bit, and then tackle the business side of having it engineered, mastered, cover photographed, product mass produced, and marketed has filled me with nothing short of awe at what these young men are capable of.  We wouldn’t know if we didn’t step back and let them try.

Having set the stage, the point of this blog post is about the other night when they wanted to jam a little in our living room to begin prepping to do live shows.  Dave was on electric guitar with my son’s new amp and his playing was ethereal, haunting and magical.  Matt was on acoustic guitar and doing vocals.  No microphone or pitch corrector was needed.  Ben sat on the new percussion box beating out the drum rhythms, tapping a cymbal from time to time, playing the shakers.  Ben had never played with them and yet his own drum work through his school’s jazz band allowed him to “go with it” and make it work in a way which looked effortless.

When they first started playing, I was blown away by how good they sounded together.  My heart skipped a beat, I smiled broadly, and I felt so grateful to being given the opportunity to witness in my sons this deep creativity that has grown inside them over their years from a tiny green sprout to a mighty stalk.  I write because I never want to forget what that moment felt like to witness this and feel it within myself.  Being witness to your kids’ creativity is so deeply personal and touching.