Time to Think

When I first returned from my tour this summer I was pleased to discover that my mind was no longer racing. I had developed a lifestyle of Obsessive Compulsive Doing. I was always busy doing something, felt incredibly ill-at-ease and antsy if I was not doing and accomplishing something. And to keep myself entertained while I was doing I played music. Before the tour it was not at all unusual for my mind to be constantly racing, running through the things I needed to accomplish next, the things I was currently working on, trying to figure out the most efficient way to accomplish everything.

During the tour I had nothing I needed to do and nothing I could do. All that filled my day was biking. And it was glorious. I had no list I needed to cross things off of. I had no deadlines. I had expectations. I woke up, I biked, I went to bed, and I did it again the next day.

Because it is unsafe to ride with headphones in, I never had music while I was biking. This meant that for almost the entire day, every day, I was listening to nothing but the sounds of the world around me. I had more time to think than I may have had at any other time in my life. I was able to ask questions and ponder things. Able to sort through and process. Able to dream and contemplate. It was delightful.

Upon arriving home I was pleased to find that my mind was no longer racing as it had been before. I was better able to focus on a single task at a time, not to stress or worry about things, and to take life as it came to me. But this last week I found myself once again laying in bed at night with my mind racing. I began running through my list of things to accomplish before returning to school on Friday. I began worrying about having the time and means to accomplish everything. I began to feel stressed and unsettled as I lay in bed. Initially I could not figure out what had changed to cause this. What was different now that made my mind race. What did I have here at home that I didn't have on the trip. One answer is more stressors. With six people in the house, with six differing personalities, and six different lives, it can be a bit stressful at times. But as I thought about it I realized that the biggest change was I had started listening to music again.

For the first two weeks or so at home I had no desire to listen to music because I had grown accustomed to silence. But as I continued to work on projects, be habit, I began to turn on my iTunes. I enjoyed it while I was working. But, I found that in playing music while working I took away my time to think. Playing music gave my brain a continual input of information to be processed, thereby inhibiting its ability to processing everything else. This meant that when I laid in bed that night in the dark silence, my mind was finally at leisure to process everything I was inadvertently been ignoring all day. It would not let me sleep until it had run through it all, storing away what needed to be stored, replaying certain events, deleting particular scenes, and creating a 'tomorrow' list for review.

I do not see anything at all wrong with music. My entire family is musical and we are often gathered around the piano for various sing-alongs (from Broadway to hymns and back again). I love driving down the highway with my windows rolled down blaring my music to the world (though my music of choice for blaring is usually Handel's Messiah). I relish the energy that can be received by listening to inspirational soundtracks while cleaning or attempting to accomplish some other relatively drab task (Pirates of the Caribbean and National Treasure being at the top of that list). But I am beginning to recognize the great importance of silence.

While on a walk with my dad a few days ago we were discussing different personalities. I said that I am a very relational person. "And yet you hardly talk." He pointed out. I told him that I do not think that talking makes you relational. I believe that it is listening that makes you relational. "You can't be relational if you don't listen." I said. "Everyone talks, but few people know how to listen." For some it is simply personalities. Some people are quieter than others by default. But I wonder too, if our constant input of information, sounds, pictures, music, and dialogue, from television, Ipods, radios, computers, and movies, keeps our mind so busy listening that when we are engaged in a face to face conversation all we can do is talk. We have been inputting so much into our minds that we have no room to process what is being said to us. Our mind must eject some of the information if it is to intake any more. With all of the busyness and stimuli we are barraged with today, I am not surprised that the ability to listen is a skill that is quickly disappearing. 

Do you want to make a difference in the world? Do you want to touch someone's life? Do you want to help that friend who is going through a crisis? Then listen. Throughout my three years of college I have found that what people really want and need is not someone who will tell them how to fix everything. They don't want someone who will tell them what they are doing wrong. They want and need someone who is willing to simply listen and allow them to process. Beth Moore once said that emotions are like laundry. "You can't sort through them until you've dumped them out." People need a place to dump their laundry so that they can sort through it. Sometimes they need your help folding it and putting it away, but sometimes they just need someone to sit and keep them company while they sort through the pile themselves. So many times at college girls would come to my room to talk. They would stay for an hour, talking through all of their frustrations and worries, their uncertainties and concerns. I would hardly say a word. When they left they almost always thanked me profusely for helping them solve their dilemma. But I never gave them any answers. I just gave them space they needed to find the answers and company along the way. There is a time to speak and a time to be silent. I believe that wisdom is knowing when to do each and courage is being willing to do both.