Quiet Life

I always want to start these posts with a question.  Today the question is: what's wrong with having a quiet life?

What IS wrong with having a quiet life?  I used to be afraid of being bored or missing out on something.  But now I'm realizing where the excitement really is . . . right here all the time. 

So, life is more quiet for me now than ever before, and I really like it.  I have extra time to spend alone, which I need and cherish, and all the activity I can handle by being back in school full time.   I hope I don't jinx it by writing these things "out loud," but maybe for the first time in my adult life I'm experiencing some balance.  One of the funny results of this balance is a better knowing of what my voice is doing and how it feels, which takes a surprising amount of sensitivity and attention.  As a jazz singer I just always opened my mouth and sang, paying attention to all aspects of the rhythm and music and hardly any mind to what my voice was telling me.  And lo and behold, to listen to my voice I actually need to shut up and be quiet.  Funny.  I need quiet in order to listen to my voice. You would think it might be the other way around: make more noise so that you can hear yourself. 

Maybe life won't always be this way, and maybe things seem quiet now because I am more still on the inside.  All I know is that the connection to whatever spirit gives rise to my voice only happens in spaces of ease and often solitude.  I don't just like my quiet life, I love it.