My mother recently invited me to hear a guest speaker at her library. She thought the speaker, John Francis, was someone I would enjoy hearing. After she told me about him, I agreed with her, but I was unable to go that evening. Mom went to his lecture, and she bought a copy of his book, which she lent to me this week. I started reading it earlier today.

Mr. Francis lives on the coast in California. He was deeply affected by an oil spill in the early '70s, and he made a decision to stop using transportation methods that rely upon petroleum. Instead, he began walking everywhere. It started out with only one day, but it ended up being for twenty-two years. Along the way, he decided to stop talking, again just for one day. He remained silent for seventeen years.

Have you ever spent a silent day? I actually have. It is an experience that opens oneself to the world around.

Back in college, before getting married, I would have many days where I'd be driving home from school and realize that I hadn't spoken with anyone all day. I always took morning and early afternoon classes, so I would be up and gone before my mother. If my sister was at our father's home, I often would not talk before leaving the house. Being a shy person, I didn't make friends in many of my classes until my degree program started in my junior year. I would sit silently though lectures, enjoy my lunch in peace in the Union or the upstairs lounge in the Educational Sciences building, working on the Daily Cardinal crossword puzzle. I listened to others talk as I walked from class to class or waited for lectures to start. Every once in a while, schedules would work out in a way that I didn't connect with my family or Luis, and I ended up not talking at all in a day.

I enjoyed being alone with my thoughts. I was more aware of the world when I was silent. Don't get me wrong, talking with a friend during a walk is enjoyable. However, you don't notice as many things as you do when you are silent. The sights, sounds and texture of the world are different when you interact with it quietly. It is like the difference between snapping a picture and taking a photograph. The latter requires you to slow down and take more notice of the subject and surroundings.

Nowadays, I have four children clamoring for my attention and responses during the day and a career that sometimes glues a cell phone to my ear. I occasionally long for those silent days. I imagine that is part of the reason I enjoy the quiet alone hours after the kids are in bed. This blog is even part of that quiet. It is a conversation I can have without any spoken words, a place for me to share thoughts that I never would or could share verbally.

I wonder if the children are old enough to spend part of the day in silence? I suspect Vincent would still jabber away, but I think the girls could do it for a couple of hours. It could be interesting to open up their eyes to a different facet of the world around them.