Karin Brynard writes: Christmas and a sermon without words

Share your Subscriber Article
You have 5 articles to share every month. Send this story to a friend!
This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.
Loading, please wait...
play article
Subscribers can listen to this article

One of the reasons why I love the Kalahari is for its silence. Come mid-December and the earth lies bleached and ?attened by the heat, all life retreats into inert silence. Birds sit motionless in the green depths of the camel thorn trees, their beaks agape to cool the blood. Even insects scuttle for the shelter offered by a leaf, a stone or bush, waiting quietly for the heat to pass. 

Closing your eyes, you’ll sense the hushed arrival of the silence. For it has presence, a quality of being. Like an unseen person entering one’s personal space, turning up out of nowhere and merging with the rhythm of one’s breath, the beating of one’s heart. 

Many people ?nd it hard to be with silence – those awkward pauses in a conversation, when loadshedding shuts off all machines and the TV darkens, becoming mute and dumb. These folks get restless, anxious, even panicked or depressed. They desperately seek the reassuring sounds of life. Not me, though. Silence attracts me, settles me, anchors me. It leadeth me along still waters, restoreth my soul. 

Read this for free
Get 14 days free to read all our investigative and in-depth journalism. Thereafter you will be billed R75 per month. You can cancel anytime and if you cancel within 14 days you won't be billed.
Try FREE for 14 days
Already a subscriber? Sign in
Show Comments ()

April 2023

Read your favourite magazine here.
Read now