Uncategorized | scillagrace

I was at the Wehr Nature Center this morning with a group of 11 first graders, looking for ingredients to cook up a batch of soil. Soil. It’s one of the two most precious substances on this planet (along with water). We wouldn’t have anything to eat if it weren’t for soil. So why not teach first graders to appreciate it? We went out on the trail to find the living and non-living ingredients in soil. It’s been raining pretty heavily and steadily this week, so all the trails are soft with soggy wood chips and all the leaves are damp. Suddenly, I noticed something: silence. The cloud cover and the moisture and the dropping temperatures are keeping people away, I surmised. After waving goodbye to the kids, I decided to spend an hour on the trails alone, relishing the quiet.

There is a graciousness to quiet. It’s very hard to cultivate in an urban setting. Noise pollution is ubiquitous, so mostly we deny it. I am particularly aware of this functional denial because I employ it every moment. I have a cyst on the arachnoid membrane beneath my skull. I discovered this about 6 years ago when I went to the doctor with tinnitus and got an MRI. My hearing was tested, and I got a follow-up image 6 months later. Basically, the cyst has put some pressure on my auditory nerve and caused the ringing in my right ear. It’s not growing, and I don’t get headaches, so I opted to leave it alone. I have ringing in both ears now, but it’s not usually a recognizable tonal ringing, more of an ‘ocean sound’ that causes some hearing difficulties. It’s very easy to ignore. When is life ever so quiet that you’d hear the blood rushing in your ears? The only time that it bothers me is when I am lured by the elusive possibility of complete silence. Sort of like light pollution. When does light bother you except when you are lured by the elusive possibility of a perfect starry night? Or when you’re trying to fall asleep? And when is it ever a good time to have elective brain surgery?? Certainly not while my husband was dying, and certainly not now when I don’t have medical insurance. So I’ll skip it.

But stillness and quiet at the side of a pond is a magical gift. I did startle some mallards who were hiding by the reeds. Two flew away, but the other two just paddled a few feet out and then turned around. I came quite close to a fat, male cardinal and a red-headed woodpecker. I got the feeling that everything was in a subdued mode. The colors were muted, the sounds were muted, animal activity was less raucous than usual. A holy hush, perhaps.

The Lord is in his holy temple, let the all the earth be silent before him. (Hab. 2:20)

That reminds me of my Dad. So did the cardinal. Dad could whistle the cardinal’s song and used it to call us to attention. I learned to do it, too. (My kids probably hate the sound, but it works.) Who do you think of in silent moments? What calls to you out of silence?

On August 21, 1962 at about four in the afternoon, my mother gave birth to her fourth daughter and named her Priscilla Grace. That was me. Imagine growing up in the cool and hip 60s & 70s with a name like Priscilla. Well, Mrs. Presley may have helped me out a bit, but since I was born in Massachusetts, my name sounded in my ears with all the Puritanical pizzazz of a rusty shoe buckle. It wasn’t until I was naming my own children that I bothered to find out what the name means. Of course, I knew it came from the Bible. I knew it was Latin. I didn’t know it meant ‘ancient’. How flattering. I am ancient in a dead language. And my middle name, Grace, is intentionally theological but also implies 15 other definitions in dictionary.com. For a little kid, it was a lot of name.

Well, I am no longer a little kid. I am beginning my 50th year of life and will be celebrating it daily in this blog until its culmination, and possibly beyond. I am thrilled to begin with naming a blog and a domain. My parents never gave me a nickname. I didn’t acquire one until a 3 year old who lived at a camp where I was employed as a college student started calling me “Scilla”. It sounded so much more like me than “Pris” or the cringe-inducing “Prissy”. So this blog is dubbed scillagrace to symbolize ancient elegance of manner, action, form, motion and moral strength. It is my goal to post entries worthy of the name. It is my goal to avoid being dogmatic and prissy. I want to challenge myself to go deeper into subjects that explore the ancient grace of life. It is a lot of name and a lot of subject, to be sure. We’ll see how it goes.