In Praise Of A Quiet Life

In praise of waking when wakefulness stirs you because you do not own an alarm clock and if you did, would not know where to find it. In praise of grinding coffee or brewing tea or hydrating with water, if that’s your preference, of eating breakfast when you feel hungry and not before.

In praise of morning coffee and birdsong out the window. In praise of running a hot bath and listening to good podcasts while bathing and starting laundry. In praise of Ezra Klein and Terry Gross and Sean Illing. In praise of morning.

Around eleven, I might nap. I might make lunch from leftovers including veggies from my husband’s garden. In praise of finishing work in time for art or walking around a hay field or soaking in a hot tub. I live a quiet life to have time for these things, or to be side-tracked by a friend’s phone call, the urge to lay in bed and listen to an audiobook.

We who live quietly are an invisible counter culture. We don’t tweet or spend copious time on smart phones; some even forego cell phones altogether. We don’t have a television. We don’t post “content” frequently or sample often from the smorgasbord of the web. We avoid the noise of incessant connection and activity. Even these small un-valorous acts become resistance in the digital age. We are harder to sell to, harder to influence. Yet resistance is not the reason we choose quiet. The quiet life is chosen because it feels more alive to us, less distracted, more healthful on personal and global levels.

Lest you think quiet a luxury, I can tell you I am not wealthy (not on a local scale, at least). My spouse and I share a simple home and older cars. Of the people I know who choose a quiet life, none are wealthy, come to think of it. So bunk to the theory of luxury. In the choice between busyness and quiet, we choose the latter not because we are well-off or ascetic, but because we want to live fully. I average twenty hours a week at my job (as writer/editor working from home). I fill volunteer roles, but also relax and have fun and get plenty of sleep.

I am long empty-nested and my life affords independent, well-paid work. And I know I’d have less free time were it otherwise. Earlier seasons of life were certainly more boisterous, even before the advance of the internet. Yet even then, I lived simply and didn’t amass debt. But even in my present circumstances, I know life could look different. I could fill it with gadgetry, more constant communication, more consumption and materialism, more entertainment and activity, more expansive professional ambitions, more work, larger investment accounts, niftier stuff. If I tuned in to media more frequently, I could fjord the voices telling me I need these things. These things, the very keys to my happiness.

The quiet life is not without limitations, of course. But isn’t embracing limitation the heart of contentment?

True, living a quiet life will not get you everything you want. It is unlikely to get you an Oprah interview, for example, or a book deal with a publisher of notable size. It is unlikely to win you the big promotions. The quiet life will not garner copious community-service awards or run up the “Likes” on your Facebook page. You will not be described as influential, or leading, or the voice of a generation.

The quiet life will not earn you a huge retirement income or buffer you against the insecurities of old age (unless perhaps you live in Finland). In the U.S., the quiet life may land you in a modest, state-subsidized nursing home. Hopefully the mental and spiritual benefits of a life lived quietly will reveal the glass half full.

Living the quiet life will not guarantee you a spotless home or tidy car, and if young children share your quiet life, they may at times look unkempt. You will not be asked by the local Home and Garden Club to feature your home on a fundraising tour, and you are unlikely to epitomize modern fashion. Yet how many of these limits will matter on the cusp of your death?

The quiet life is about listening and attending to your existence and that of the universe and spirit around you. It is about stilling the noise enough that you can hear. What you hear will depend on your singular vocation, your calling.

At times, quiet may lead you into seasons of increased activity and engagement. These seasons will be well nourished by the quiet. Your life will mimic the natural world, which cycles through abundance and fallowness, drama and repose, migration and homecoming. Roots nurtured in stillness and quiet will be strong to abide your seasons of action.

So praise to a quiet life! A full and simple and quiet life.