Silence Is Golden

Sometimes silence is just yellow.

Pithy has experienced the golden kind—at the end of a long, hot day with lots of people that expect smiles and handshakes—when head meets pillow in that sweet moment of renewal. The soft expulsion of pleasure is inevitable, and we smile just a little as the quiet lulls us to our dreams. Sometimes, it’s the easy silence shared by two friends—no expectations, no disappointments—just a companionable peace that reaffirms and secures. The muffled silence of first snow, when the world stills, caught in reverence for the simple miracles of life. Or when a room holds its breath as a loved one passes—the indecisive moment of silence when hope and longing meet in that final sigh.

Sometimes we find ourselves in the silence, we meet that version of who we want to be—the one that is too scared to face the critics and the pressures. We sit in the empty clarity and ask ourselves what comfort we find in all the noise.

But sometimes—sometimes silence is too empty, a reminder of our loneliness—that the indifferent quiet that held off sleep, mocking our efforts to let go—will be the same indifferent quiet that stares blankly at us when we awake. Sometimes the moments are too silent—just bearable enough for prayer.