No Topic - Just Silence
A Family Road Trip is in the Books
No topic
nothingness
blank stare
dark hole can’t see
nothing to talk about
negative space, white, colorless
gray skies, heavy fog
blinding blizzard
heavy rain storm
driving where there are no lines
no trees, no marked road, no lights, complete whiteness
focus on the road
no topic allowed
only driving straight ahead
no topic I don’t want to think about anything
because it’s all too much right now
I want there to be nothing to discuss
to summarize, to argue about
I want stillness, to sit outside
among the evergreens
to take in the smell
as if right next to my nose
that crisp, clean smell of a pine
I want to focus on birds flying, gathering
at the feeder like addicts
juncos, house finches, chickidees
seagulls wander around searching for insects
wish I could hear the noise their beaks make when
pecking at the green manicured grass
No topics
no one blabbing, blah, blah and disrupting my peace
silence, void of words
instead, the sounds of nature
which are infinite
and amplified if no one is
talking, commenting, droning on about
nothing of any importance
The topic is silence
quiet meditation
being drawn into your body
feeling it move, feeling it grow,
feeling it vibrate, feeling it feel
absorbing the aura of silence.
It cannot last.
I desire talking at some point
some way to release what is on my mind
I could just face a blank canvas and let it
all out with colors, texture, slashing movements or
I could face a blank page and write words
whatever comes to mind
let it spill out
with daring abandon
but at some point
I will self edit and ruin the moment.
I just returned from a three-week road trip with my spouse, Doug, and my daughter, Mac. We visited six National Parks and a few National Forests as we cruised in my new black Subaru Outback through seven states. I insisted on driving my vehicle to break it in because, well, I like road trips, and there will be many in this car.
Our family of three did not do much road tripping during the summer months when Mac was growing up. We had a lake cabin, which took precedence over any other kinds of local, regional, and national trips. There were family and friends there, fishing, boating, grilling, campfires, all the things. So why would anyone want to venture out of that kind of weekend getaway?
Well, sure, it was a pleasant retreat, but after a while (20 years), at least for me, it became predictable and stale.
Because I’ve always enjoyed exploring new places, I secured a great 10-year gig during my summer breaks while teaching college. I led trips overseas, paid for by the travel company that helped me take students on adventures that would, in many cases, change their lives. Not only was I satisfying my desire to see the world, but I was also helping students discover new places and further expand their own learning experiences, which made my heart sing. Many had never been outside of their home state, or for that matter, on a plane.
My spouse, on the other hand, lived to work, making sure our family's financial situation was stable. Taking time off outside of the weekends at the lake was like pulling teeth. He was content with the cabin getaway. I appreciated his patriarchal need to provide, but not at the expense of quality and adventurous family time with Mac. Sure, she was wrapped up with her friends and may have seemed uninterested, but I think she would have appreciated the memories of road trips around the country.
So, fast-forward to the spring of 2025. Mac brought up the need for some serious downtime after her classes ended in June. We discussed a potential road trip and the fact that I had just secured our lifetime National Park Pass. A family excursion evolved.
So what does any of this have to do with the poem that began this post? Well, the three of us appreciate the beauty and mental health benefits of silence. Loud noises and constant chatter irritate us and hurt our brains, especially in confined or sacred (to us) spaces. When we drive, whether separate or together, it is usually in silence. Sometimes, there may be music, podcasts, or conversations, but more often, we prefer to focus on the road and notice the surroundings unfiltered or nap during the boring parts. When walking or hiking, it is usually in silence so that we can absorb the natural sounds we encounter. Of course, there are grunts, groans, sighs, WOWs, and occasional oops (when stumbling on a rock), but for the most part, we walk and listen.
This is how we connect with one another and our surroundings. It is a vibe we share. Besides, talk is wildly overrated.
During our trip, we encountered several instances where we were surrounded by people on trails who would not stop talking and doing so loudly. I couldn’t blame their enthusiasm, just wish they had been further away from our earshot.
My desired goal would be to have SILENCE PLEASE signs stationed throughout nature trails and parks, similar to those found in libraries and other quiet spaces. Listening to the sounds in nature without personal oration creates a more compelling experience; you become a part of it. The last thing I want to hear about is someone’s life problems or gossip that has nothing to do with where we are RIGHT NOW. Talk about that drivel later in the comfort of your own space.
Granted, if the trail is being used as a teaching tool, by all means, talk, because it’s relevant.
I feel the same way about museums, churches, historical monuments, and other places that deserve our focused attention and reverence in order to fully appreciate the experience.
I find it difficult to focus on the ambiance of these memorable places when voices (annoyingly loud voices) interrupt the silence. Do we always have to talk about our experiences as they are happening? Why is it necessary to critique or summarize vocally what we are viewing right then? So often I want to shout STFU. I know, that’s rude, but someday I will take that verbal plunge.
Once again, if it’s a teaching moment, no problem, just use your inside voices.
Allowing an experience to marinate within our body and mind is the only way to commit that experience to the soul; the sights, sounds, smells, visuals, movements, textures, everything. One cannot absorb anything of substance while chit-chatting away, which is multitasking at its worst. Granting yourself silence in the moment will make it easier to draw upon that experience with clarity when it’s time to reflect on it later. There are many memories lost to me because I did not quiet my mind in the moment.
It takes conscious effort to be present, as distractions abound.
One of the National Parks we visited was Arches, near Moab, UT. An incredible example of millions of years of landscape shifting caused by major and minor geological events. When we stopped at several spots along the road, silence was what made the place so extraordinary. To be aware of one’s surroundings is a gift that everyone can give and receive if they quiet themselves long enough to realize the authentic grace and allure of a place.
Drink it all in and then let it sit. There is nothing like being at what seems like the top of the world, a place so vast, where the sky and landscape go on forever, the wind is blowing through the canyons, rustling the trees, birds are flying and singing, ravens are cawing and dancing in the wind, creatures are crawling in and around the sacred ground, and the spirits of who and what came before awaken the soul.
Silence, no topic, presence.