on silence

There's a small chapel on the 9th floor of the building where I work. Lately, I've been going there more often, following the afternoon Mass. I sit by myself, breathing in the incense. I stare outside or at the floor, think about work, my life so far, or what I will do in the future. Sometimes, flute or piano music plays from the speakers, or a catchy song plays in my head. I secretly watch the others, some are reading a novena book while some are praying. I try to guess what they are asking for and I hope that they get it.

I'm not sure if this is Peace. I often feel guilty for leaving my workstation, going all the way down there and then sitting for 5 to 10 minutes doing nothing. I feel like I'm wasting time not being busy, but I feel happy as well because I have a place and a time all for myself. Nobody I know goes there at that hour. A small window of freedom. I've been going for over a week and it's becoming a habit.

I hear no clever talks, no humor, no kind words, no sharing of one's self. It's blank-- but it's not empty. Something fills me, and I'm craving it more and more. I didn't realize my hunger for silence; and something is happening to me that I didn't expect: I'm more focused at work, better at conversations, more patient and more tolerant of others. Those moments bring out something in me. Out of nothing, the better part of me grows.