Silence is an invitation to pay attention

In his blog this morning, Seth Godin introduced me to this word: Qarrtsiluni. It's a word used by the Inuit people to describe the magic that can happen in stillness.

But we're not big fans of stillness.

Because of that, maybe we miss some magic?

I love these words from Majuaq, an Alaskan Eskimo.

"Our forefathers believed that the songs were born in this stillness while all endeavored to think of nothing but beautiful things. Then they take shape in the minds of men and rise up like bubbles from the depths of the sea, bubbles seeking the air in order to burst. That is how the sacred songs are made!"

It's a beautiful scene, really. Imagining this Eskimo sitting in the dark and quiet, trusting in beauty while the rest of the world is running around frantically searching for it.

The noise protects us, though, doesn't it? It protects us from the silence that often scares us. Maybe we're more comfortable with the often meaningless noise of the world than we are facing the person that bursts forth in the silence.

A dear friend sent me these words yesterday from Hollie Holden.

"There is nothing wrong with feeling low, flat or empty. These states are actually soul nudges. They are invitations to pay attention to the magic in between things."

We are more comfortable, I think, trying to recreate the magic from some past thing or dreaming of the magic that might arrive with the next thing. All the while, we are blinded by the possibility that the magic in life comes from embracing the thing that is here right now.

What might erupt from the unknown can be scary. In a world trying to shape a belief that magic only happens as a result of beautiful, it's hard to trust that magic can indeed burst forth from moments when life feels silent - maybe less than beautiful.

In the bible, in the book of Job, we read:

But none says, ‘Where is God my Maker,
who gives songs in the night,
who teaches us more than the beasts of the earth
and makes us wiser than the birds of the heavens?’

One of Job's friends was suggesting to him that we cry out to God in the noise - begging for relief from it - but not with any trust that God is actually going to create a beautiful song in the midst of it.

Let's not miss the songs in the night - the nudges on our souls.

Let's not be distracted by the noise of the past and of the future.

Let's not miss the invitation to find magic - together - in the here and now.