The major world religions all have observances this month centered on peace, re-centering, and — to some extent — solitude. For me, it’s Lent, but even if there’s no particular faith tradition you belong to, the change of seasons or the changing of the clocks, or the parade of planets in the sky, might give you a reason to take a moment to reflect and recalibrate.

My first Lenten reflection was about taking time to sit in silence. If thoughts popped into my head, I was instructed to acknowledge them and let them pass. The challenge was, for just 10 minutes, to be still and listen to the silence.

Boy, was it a challenge! I seem to have created within myself a perpetual motion machine — there is never a dull moment. But being busy is not the same as being productive, being focused, or being grounded in the moment or in a mission. Sometimes, being busy is just a distraction, and distractions often leave us unable to see a message, path, or meaning that is meant to spark our reflection.

I found the stillness, once I finally managed to achieve it, to be very uncomfortable. Stillness — silence — appeared to me as absence, as a sense of loss, as missing something. And for me, silence is really quite novel and new.

For decades, I have had a house full of kids, pets — and visitors. Silence? Stillness? Kept at bay by the warmth and fullness of a happy home.

Walking to a quiet place without interruptions from the pets, without my phone or laptop or a book to read, but just silence — it felt wrong. I felt unmoored. I almost fought against the assignment and abandoned it all together to get on with the “stuff of life.”

But then it settled — or, I guess, I settled. And, I sat in silence for what was definitely a lot longer than 10 minutes (though I can’t say exactly how long because I didn’t have my phone, which you already know if you’ve read this far!).

There were a lot of feelings that came to the fore in that time. And I wondered, why hadn’t I been letting these feelings into my life? Why was I avoiding feeling sad about not having all my kids around all the time? Why was I pushing down the fear and confusion about what’s happening in the world today? Why was I trying so hard to keep the big feelings hidden by the many pebbles and rocks of various projects and meetings and tasks? Why was I committed to avoiding silence by inviting in more and more noise?

The tether returned and the feeling of being adrift subsided. I was able to feel at ease.

Each of us is held, individually and in our common humanity, by something larger than ourselves. There are ways we can give our time and attention to affirming that and multiplying it, and there are ways that we can become unhearing and unfeeling. It’s OK to be busy when the purpose for the work is present. It’s OK to be noisy when it’s in service to joy or justice. But we need to be vigilant about not being guilty of disturbing our own peace. This time of reflection and stillness makes space for recognition of small and continuous miracles.

Again, you do not need to be religious to take a moment of reflection. You don’t have to be observing a spiritual holiday to be observing the world around you. It doesn’t have to be an assignment to be still that brings more peace into your day. But I am thankful for that assignment, for this Lenten season, and for the message that was waiting to be heard.

I hope each of you reading this can have your own experience with silent reflection and that our community and world is more peaceful for it.

Jackie Augustine lives with her three children in Geneva, where she served on City Council for 16 years. An ethics instructor at Keuka College, she serves on many local boards and is founder of BluePrint Geneva. “Doing the Write Thing” appears every other Tuesday. Email her at writethingcolumn@gmail.com.

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