Desperately seeking silence

It is difficult to find a silent place in the modern world. And on those days when one is really seeking silence in order to have some peace, it's even harder. My garden is about the only place that is unspoiled by noise, and the minute I enter it, my stress level goes to zero. Even when I go to mass these days, I can never find a quiet one, like the ones I used to attend with my mother on weekdays when I visited her. They were held in the chapel off the side of the main altar of the church, and they were small, silent, and peaceful. Just a mass without the frills. I find I neither need nor do I like the frills anymore. I just want to go to mass and find some peace of mind. I want the quiet in order to reflect--on life, on suffering, on sickness, on life's meaning. I need to do that; I need to find the time to reflect in order to understand what is going on in my life and in the lives of others. But I am not allowed that. I cannot find one mass at my church that is quiet, straightforward, and without frills. They are often long drawn-out affairs, with pre-mass processions, a lot of incense holder waving, a lot of (off-key) singing of modern songs that hold no meaning for me. I miss the old standard hymns (sung by a real choir), the ones I grew up with (like Praise to the Lord), the ones my mother and I liked and sometimes teared-up over (On Eagle's Wings). I miss ordinary masses, celebrated by a priest who appreciated silence and the absence of continual activity. There are now masses in multiple languages (Norwegian, English, Vietnamese, Tagalog, French, Spanish, Polish) at my church in Oslo; more power to them--I am sure the different cultures appreciate this effort by the church. But I wonder why there cannot be just one mass for those of us who would appreciate some silence in between the traditional celebration of the mass.

Sometimes I feel like I am desperately seeking silence. It's hard to find. When I reflect upon my need for silence, I realize that it is born of a lifetime of talking to work colleagues (having to interact in order to get things done), of sharing an office with others, of holding lectures, of attending meetings, of watching TV, of listening to the radio, of having to interact with the world the minute I wake up (via newspapers and other media forms). There is no escaping the inundation of noise that awaits you each day, ready to pounce on you and to destroy the peace of your day. I simply don't want it anymore.

As I was weeding in the garden today, I realized that my garden has become a place of peace and of silence. I pray as I work, reflecting upon the things I need to reflect upon, working out the solutions I need for specific problems. It has become my church of sorts; the way church used to be--when you could walk in and find peace. I can spend hours in my garden, and feel closer to all things spiritual there than anywhere else, including my church. I find that a bit sad, but true. And there is little to do about it. As I get older, I want peace, quiet, and time for reflection. If I cannot find them at mass, then I will find them in my garden.