My midlife discovery: beautiful silence

It was a revelation to find my voice when I was a girl and young woman. This voice expressed itself in the language of art and writing. I developed a style of painting that was saturated with color, which showed how deeply my feelings run. I started writing stories and essays which explored many things that I did and did not yet understand. I found like-minded people to hang with who made their self-expression a source of strength, too. The maiden-voice was mine, and it felt good to sing.

Then I became a mother and discovered that a new voice was needed. I quickly learned that our culture is not particularly sympathetic to motherhood. Our economic system is so unsupportive of mothers and families that it can be said to be repressive. It’s incredibly difficult to raise a family with the rising cost of living, which eats up any improvements in wages. It’s hard to feed and shelter a family in our nation, especially on the coasts.

There is also an implicit misogyny around motherhood and the role of nurturers in general; this is evidenced by a crisis in affordable childcare and stubborn childhood poverty rates. Implementing policies that support families in the world’s richest country seems to be an unspeakably difficult task for the leaders in government and business to accomplish. Could this be due to an underlying attitude of disrespect for the holy work of motherhood? Makes one wonder…

As a mother, I developed a strong voice of advocacy for my children so that they could have their needs met. My mother-voice was loud and clear. I was able to translate this mother-voice to advocating for others in our community, including for creative and educational opportunities for children and families. In 2012, I loaned my mother-voice to the Obama campaign, to advocate for health care reform. My song was bold, at times, and confident.

Then midlife came….

I can still carry the tunes of my maiden and mother songs, and I will always enjoy their melodies. Those parts of me feel good.  But what is it that I need to say now?

Surprisingly, it’s not my voice, by my ears that are most active recently. I want to listen. I want to hear the voices and stories of other people. Accompaniment, presence, and listening are the silent skills I am developing.

The gifts of this shift from action-orientation in my identity to self-transcendence are sublime. When I am quiet, I can hear the exquisite symphony of creation. The stirring major falls and minor lifts of the Divine’s masterwork are only audible when I am silent.

Listen… listen.