SILENCE

As a young person, I couldn’t relate to silence.

One of my favorite sayings was even:
“I only like music when it’s loud.”

I loved concerts.
Parties.
Big cities.
Lots of people.

If something was happening somewhere, I was there.
And not just for a little while.
But until the very end.

Back then, silence felt more like:
Boredom.
Stillness.
Missing out.

As if real life was always happening somewhere else.
Just not where things were quiet.

When silence suddenly started to feel right

Over the years, that changed.

Today, I love the quiet of nature.
The stillness at home by the fire.
Moments without conversation.
Without noise.
Without distraction.
Meditation.

Sometimes, those voices still appear:
“You’ve gotten old.”
“How boring.”

And of course, at first you wonder:
Is that true?
Have I lost something?

But at some point, I realized:
Silence didn’t make my life smaller.
It made it richer.

Not more spectacular.
But more real.
Maybe I didn’t lose anything
when I let go of my younger self.

Maybe I simply stopped holding on
to something that no longer fits me.

Could silence also be a form of growing up?

I’ve often wondered
why I know so few older people
who are truly happy.

Could it be
that we rarely see the beauty of growing older -
and much more often focus on what we no longer are?

Why does our society hold on so tightly to youth?
Outwardly, but also inwardly?
This need to still be “part of it.”
To seem cool.
To stay relevant.
To not let anything age.

I understand that impulse. I really do.

But I notice in myself:
It’s also incredibly freeing
when you stop caring so much
about what’s currently hip, cool, in or out.

And I can feel
how that shift makes so many things lighter.

Not having to be everywhere anymore

I find it wonderful
that I can now simply go home
when my body tells me I’m tired.

And not only when others think
it’s “late enough.”

I couldn’t have done that before.
Or at least not without feeling
like I was missing out
or not meeting expectations.

Today, it feels more like
I’m finally not missing something anymore: myself.

Being alone is not always loneliness

I didn’t like being alone before.
Being alone quickly felt like emptiness.
Like something that had to be filled right away.

With people.
With plans.
With noise.
With anything.

That has changed too.
Not that I always want to be alone.
But I enjoy it more and more.
I no longer need constant company or distraction.

If no one wants to go for a walk with me,
I go by myself.

And the surprising part is:
It doesn’t feel lonely anymore.
It feels good.
I can keep myself company.
I can engage with myself.

And sometimes,
that’s even the better company.
When I’m alone, in silence,
I get to know myself in a different way.

Then I’m no one for others.
I don’t have to perform.
To fulfill anything.
To send anything out.

For that moment, there is no outside.
Only me.

And I think
I’m slowly beginning to understand
that being alone does not automatically mean loneliness.

Sometimes, it’s actually a very beautiful state.
Almost like a quiet adventure.

What now feels like freedom

Maybe it took all those loud years
to truly appreciate the quiet ones.

Not because one is better than the other.
But because life simply begins to feel different at some point.

More mature.
Deeper.
More real.

And because some things
that once felt like loss
now feel more like freedom.

Same world.
More silence.
More depth.
More awareness.

LUMA – it begins in you.

Mini Practice:
Take a few minutes today without any distraction.
No phone.
No music.
No podcast.
Just sit down or take a few steps on your own.
And notice what arises
when things become quiet.

Reflection Question:
When does silence feel like emptiness to me -
and when does it feel like freedom?