The Silence of Growth – Sunday, March 31, 1985
The world shouts its demands at us in many ways. Voices over a thousand radio stations jangle at once. Undigested bits of information come creeping into corners of our house. Pressure keeps us running first one way, then another until finally we learn to respond only to the loudest and most insistent.
It is to humanity tired of all this that August Fruge issued his invitation, “When your spirit cries for peace, come to a world of canyons, deep in an old land; feel the exaltation of high plateaus, the strength of moving waters, the simplicity of sand and grass and the silence of growth.”1
Keeping in time and touch with the earth does restore our spirits, for much that we feel, and are, has its roots in nature. When we come away from the roar, far from the city’s dust and stone, we are reminded of our kinship with something far more elemental.
Life moves quietly and steadily along an eternal path. Autumn leaves signal the renewing process that brings spring blossoms. Wheat ripens in a silent field. Survey a forest or red canyon, untouched by man, and all is change and growth. Yet, there is no boisterous proclamation; the stillness is its own surprise.
As with nature, so with us. Life’s most important moments happen quietly in the recesses of our soul. A boy becomes a man so imperceptibly we could not name the day. The girl’s childish chants become a woman’s lullabies. We are each made by the laying down of one memory upon the other, quietly building first our habits and then our character.
When does the adolescent, full of himself, finally extend his sympathy to another? How is it that the pain of the widow gradually melts into acceptance and finally to hope? There is no single, fiery moment when we move from ignorance to understanding, no sudden dawning of courage to face down fear.
All that is really worthwhile in this life comes slowly and without applause. That being the case, we must be more wary of sudden evolutions. We must feel less stressed by the voices shouting at us, less worried for approval, less frazzled by the nervous self-propulsion. Therefore, we must simplify, shed the intimidation’s of a hurried world and rejoice in the quiet times—rejoice beside the still waters.
1 As quoted by Wadley, Carma, The Deseret News, March 17, 1985
March 31, 1985
Broadcast Number 2,902