This voice is stirring in my soul. It has been for weeks. “You’re in over your head! Drowning… Get out! Get out, now!” Lost in a sea of artificial noise. I need to unplug. Shut off the beeps, and the voices in Facebook. Including mine. Stop talking. Start thinking. It’s all too noisy… the cell phones, and then there are the TVs, radios and emergency sirens.
My heart races. My blood pressure rises. My mind responds to the pictures and videos and messages… the debates online over whatever is raging in the Facebook cultural fight of the day. Flooded and bombarded with stories about parenting and politics, lifestyles, religions, God, no god. The economy and our health. I want out. I want it silent. To let the mental tension melt… I have to unplug.
Fill the void. Listen to the silence. Hear the heaven-sent tap of rain on my rooftop. Disengage from the artificial. Hear the real.
Engage the struggle… face the silence. Hear my voice. And the still small voice within that guides. Where do you go for that? Where can you retreat? The answer isn’t necessarily simple. For me, it’s at home.
I can turn it off. With the click of a button, the TV shuts down. The radio never powers up. The phone is stored away as a phone. No longer available for anything smart. The wisest choice I’ve made all year.
I can’t hear it anymore. The continuous and prolonged drone of people’s voices on Facebook have moved me from a state of mild annoyance into mental tension fraught with fatigue.
It’s time to go.
Tap tap tap tap. I hear the rain. Longing for the downpour. A cry from heaven screaming for my attention.
Listen for the innocent chortling, tee-hee of your children. The snickers of two toddlers oblivious to anything outside of the moment they’re living.
If it truly does go by “so fast,” wouldn’t it be a shame to fill the “time” with that sucking sound of an online world promising everything but delivering nothing?
It’s going to take work. Discipline. Commitment. But I’m there.
Unplugging to give my mind rest so they can hear nature, my family, and God.
I need the quiet.
Where do you go to find it?