“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.”
– Rumi
So what’s the story behind Quiet as a Human? There are at least three. Read them here (they’re short!) -
Story #1 “Quiet Mouse!”
When I was small I internalized the phrase, “Quiet as a mouse!”. I think I first heard this phrase at the library when I was of preschool age. “Quiet” was the most important and best rule of the library, in my opinion. The library was, in fact, probably my favorite place in the world. I loved the children’s librarian. She and her son both dressed in all black. They were incredibly kind, articulate, and always ready to suggest a just-right book. To walk into the hush of the space was magic. To leave it, stepping out into the noisy city with its traffic lights and sidewalk chatter, my head full of ideas and arms full of books - invigorating! I realized that many adults also liked quiet and preferred children be quiet, not only in the library. The phrase was used by a teacher prepping his class for walking through the halls or a parent desperate for a respite from noisy chatter in the car during a road trip. My siblings and I even used it to get a break from each other when one of us was being annoying, “One, two, three, quiet mouse!”. I learned that I was very good at this game as I could easily check out and retreat into the worlds of my mind. Often, I’d remain lost in my mind even when someone broke the silence and the game ended. I would weave stories in my head, imagine screenplays, or make up a new limerick. Sometimes I would replay scenes from the day or an interesting interaction from months ago, to entertain myself. My mind was my safe and fantastic happy place where I could open and close the doors to other worlds according to my whim and will.
As I spent time in these imaginary worlds I got used to hearing “Earth to Andrea!” and “You missed it, Hertzog, you were out to lunch again”. I was also the shy kid, preferring to observe and take things in before interacting. An introverted, naturally quiet child. In middle school, I met a new kid who became my bestie. With a best friend by my side, healthy doses of adolescent bravado, and awkwardness, my confidence grew and I busted out of my shell in middle school. However, the internalized idea of myself as a “quiet mouse” was reinforced when our class yearbook staff assigned nicknames to everyone and mine was: Class Mouse. At the time I didn’t realize a big reason for my silence was my lack of willingness to make mistakes. Remaining quiet behind my thick-lensed plastic-framed glasses, gave the impression that I was thoughtful, observant, and intelligent. And I was, sort of. This was comfortable. I could easily pretend I didn’t make mistakes. And I could avoid being vulnerable. I was as quiet as a mouse and that’s the way I thought I liked it. The way I thought they liked me.
So, in this first story, I saw myself as a mouse for most of my childhood. But of course, I am not a mouse. I do still like to observe and reflect but I am louder now, bolder too. And often chatty - more like a squirrel! Or a human. I am Quiet as a Human. This title is a way to reclaim and integrate my quietness and my raw humanity.
Story #2 “I’m a Human!”
When my youngest was about three years old, we were winding down in the evening, changing into PJs, and getting ready to read a quiet bedtime story. She randomly proclaimed, “I’m not Ariel anymore, I’m a HUman!” as she laughed and bounced around the apartment. Amused, I thought sarcastically, “Yeah, you’re about as quiet as a human too!”. I started a parenting blog shortly after, calling it “Quiet as a Human” and sharing true-to-life stories of the early years of mothering. The blog didn’t make it very far as my ideas and time to write them were buried under unfolded laundry, dirty dishes, children’s art, and lots and lots of noisy chatter! It was worth the trade though. As I wrote about in my post here last week - life is now. (click here to read)
Story #3 Caleb
Caleb is my little brother who lived for a full but brief 16 years. He came into our family in a special way just before his 1st birthday and everything about him was - well, love. Caleb had hydrocephalus and cerebral palsy. A shunt drained excess fluid from his brain and a wheelchair gave him the mobility his legs could not. Caleb’s first words were “Hi!” and “Hey!” His first phrase was “I love you!”. And that was it. He was never able to use his voice to say anything beyond those few words. He used his eyes, left hand, and his smile to communicate. His laughter was contagious. He would laugh at silly stunts (think Three Stooges), jokes, or when someone fell down - his laughter accompanied by an expression like “sorry, not sorry - I just can’t help it!” He didn’t like wrapping paper or the sound of packages being opened. My mom said it reminded him of his many medical procedures, surgeries, and hospital stays. He was brave and full of joy, despite his extreme limitations. I don’t mean to immortalize him but many who knew him called him an angel. Caleb and I were alike in one way - we were both mostly quiet. I loved being with him. I would take him for long silent walks in his stroller or wheelchair or sit outside near a tree and just be. However, while I was content to be quiet, ignoring my needs, he made himself heard regarding what mattered most. He welcomed people with a big greeting and let them know they were loved. He would reach out with his left hand to literally grab someone’s attention as they walked by. I have always wanted to be more like Caleb and Quiet as a Human is one way I try. I have a voice. Caleb couldn’t use his but I can use mine. He shared himself through his beautiful smile. I share myself here.
* For more on Caleb visit my Patreon Haiku Human (Click here) and read a short poem I posted on his birthday last week. (Subscribe for free and support my Haiku projects while you’re there!)
So there you have it, three stories, three perspectives on being quiet, and being human. Braiding these stories together I came up with Quiet as a Human. Like a mouse, I can be quiet. Like Ariel (The little mermaid who traded her voice for human legs) I have things to say. And like Caleb I can make myself heard when I want to. This week, as I think about my perspective on the state of the world, after observing and listening quietly for 45 years, I’ve resurrected the title, Quiet as a Human. With it I reclaim my writing voice. I’m still figuring out what exactly that is - ha! A little high-pitched or scratchy at times, inconsistent, lacking volume. This feels real, and honest as this also describes my actual speaking voice. My left vocal nerve has been paralyzed for years. Being only human, we work with what we’ve got, right? Thanks so much for reading this, for subscribing to my substackk, and hanging with me here as I find my footing, and my voice.
Assignment:
Reflection - Find a quiet place and just sit for a few minutes. Let yourself be uncomfortable with the silence and hold out till the noise of your own discomfort fades. Take a few slow, deep breaths. Now - think about the things you love and care about most. What is something important to you that you’ve been quiet about? How might you make yourself heard?
Feel free to share in the comments!
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