Before the house begins to stir

 I love the quiet of early mornings, before the house begins to stir, before the neighborhood wakes up.

It’s too early for the dog to want to walk or play — he’s snoring softly. The chores are always with us, but they’ll wait an hour. I like to sit in a chair with a pen and a notebook. I like the silence.

A lot of people practice mindfulness, meaning they try to clear their minds of thoughts and ideas that constantly bubble up like a natural spring. I’m just the opposite. I like the natural spring. I like to think about life and all the interesting people and ideas I stumbled across in the course of a day. Each day, I try to make a note of something.

That’s why I have this note about Gunilla Norris, who years ago wrote Sharing Silence. Almost all of that little book has been lost to my memory, but she made me wonder about our affluence. We use it to distract ourselves, not enrich ourselves.

We have places in our homes set aside as recreation rooms or entertainment centers. Norris made me wonder what the country would look like if each house had a place for silence and sanctuary.

As I read her I had an image of countless people rushing home after a day to work to watch a movie or ballgame. And I wondered what it would be like if they came home to a place that was quiet, where they could just sit and think about what they’d seen or the people who were important to them.

Norris wrote: “When we make a place for silence, we make room for ourselves. This is simple. And it is radical.”

I think she’s right. With that one change, you would have a different people, and thus a different country.