But so is noise.

Traveling alone for the first time, to a country where I literally could only say “hello,” quickly brought up everything I had ever intentionally and unintentionally not considered, thought about, pondered, healed from, forgiven, laughed at, cried for, was hurt by, apologized for…

It forced me to be uncomfortable. To listen to my crazy thoughts, recognize them as crazy, and accept them… as crazy.

To not speak for days in a row, while surrounded by noise, is an enlightening thing.

Once the tide of silent acceptance rolls over you, you are peaceful, intact, whole, grounded, interconnected. But totally, happily, alone.

After a few days you learn to love the silence; it becomes your security blanket. Someone speaking your language seems rude and intrusive. Don’t they know you’re in deep, figuring all your shit out?!

The indistinguishable clamor of a foreign tongue becomes your peace, your white noise. Your meditation.

The silence forced upon me was one of the most important lessons of my life, and every now and then I yearn to be in a place where everything is strange and nothing makes sense and I can settle into being completely uncomfortably comfortable.

Jen McKelvie lives and works on the island of Manhattan, the first place she has ever been happy to return to after time away. Her soul flies highest when she is wandering the streets laughing too loudly with best friends. She loves yoga, her dog and green juice.

You can connect with Jen @jenny_jump_up or here: jmckelvie.com.

 

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Ed: B.B.