Do you ever feel like the rest of the world is louder than you? I do. It's like I'm in a shouting match with all of the violence, and politicians, and teachers, the activists, preachers, businesses, poverty, my friends, celebrities, the American Dream, logic, and all of the 7.5 billion people who live on this earth. And I feel like I'm losing to every single one of them.
Everything is louder than I am.
Everything except God.
In the midst of the noise He whispers. And because I can be louder than Him, I am. I know He could rise above the turbulence if He wanted to, but He doesn't. Maybe that's part of what love is. He could be louder than everything, yet He whispers.
My ears grow tired of the world I want to move away from it all.
I want to go be alone.
I want to ask God the questions that can only be asked on mountains and under trees. I want to hear the answers that can only be heard in the flow of a creek, and in the wind moving through the woods.
I want to move a little farther North, where the weather is a little cooler. Somewhere in Isolation, but is also close to books. I think I could live alone forever with books.
Even with all of the words they hold in them, books never talk. They listen. They never try to be louder than you. Your eyes graze upon the words like a cow slowly feasting on grass– sure to chew every bite. You whisper what is written back to the book so it knows what it is. It loves you for it. You love it the same. It is never difficult to find a friend in a book.
And with my books I imagine I'd live in a cabin. I would cut wood with an axe to stay warm during the winter. I would make friends among deer and squirrels; I would know the trees. Here I would not need to be louder than anything. Nothing would be louder than me.
I would hear God's whispers.
In the woods, everything whispers.
I would whisper back.
Written in stream of consciousness, lightly edited for grammar.