Silently alone

(To understand this post fully you need to know this bit of information: I'm in London).

I hate being alone, a lot. Even though I knew they would be good for me and my spiritual well being, I avoided Calvin's Silent Retreats like the plague!

In the last two days I've had two experiences that really made me think about this quality (flaw?) more. Yesterday I explored a couple cities in Cambridgeshire that we visited as a family about six years ago and had made a strong positive impression on me. Ely is a small town known for its beautiful cathedral and Cambridge is this bigger town with a whole lot of people who like studying in it, you may have heard of it. I loved Cambridge right off and Ely's charm is prominent in my memory. And yet, as I wandered around these two places yesterday, while I appreciated many of the things I must have appreciated six years ago - the river on the edge of Ely with the hopeful ducks and fishermen, the markets full of fresh things, the atmosphere of life and movement in Cambridge, the old college buildings that are grand and would be intimidating but manage to sit alongside cafes and bicycle racks with casual ease - it was not the same. Okay, this time I was chilled to the bone and trying not to get frostbite or hypothermia, but I think it was something more. I think the fact that I did these towns alone made all the difference. I'm glad I wandered them, don't get me wrong, and I had a great time, but there was something missing: people to share it with.

I've noticed this about myself before and yesterday confirmed it, I don't enjoy doing things alone - travelling and seeing new places being among the biggest. This isn't to say I won't go travelling or see places alone, or that I'll be miserable when I do, just that I don't love it. So I've always thought I hate solitude and silence (hence the no-looking-back run from Silent Retreats).

Tonight I went to a really wonderful church service. The church was called Moot and it is part of the New Monastic movement of churches. I actually went to 3 services today - an Anglican morning one with a Nigerian twist, an Anglican choral evensong, and this one. This was by far my favourite and was one of the most beautiful services I have been to. There were several aspects of it that really connected with me but something that stuck out in particular as I think of my day yesterday was their use of silence. Quite near the beginning of the service there was a five minute period of "Disciplined silence"; and it was lovely. Really. It had been an exhausting day of walking non-stop around South London and the chance to just sit and catch my breath was well-needed. But it was also a chance to catch my breath after a busy week, a crazy final two weeks of the school year, a hectic term and a non-stop year. And a chance to talk to God. Really talk. I don't often just sit quietly and deliberately and it was good. And what made it even more so was that I was in the company of others doing the same thing. I have to admit here that I'm sometimes a cynical church participant as I watch people around me entering in or not entering in to worship. And yet, with these folk I had a sense that we were all there, together, catching up on rest, sitting in silence, talking. There were other creative uses of silence in the service but those five minutes were the pinnacle.

I think what made those five minutes so powerful for me was that although I was silent, I was not alone at all. And I've realised tonight that silence is not something I hate; maybe being alone is (and maybe I have to deal with that) but silence is good and healthy. Good and healthy and wonderful.