This is one of my favorite photos of Dominic even though you have to look hard to see him sitting back there on the drums.
For awhile there was an almost-monthly gathering of local musicians not far from where we live. They would sing old favorites, cover popular tunes and try out some of their own compositions.
Both Dominic and Fiona participated.
This night, in particular, is a beautiful memory because while band members changed out nearly every song, Dominic simply moved from one position to another, one instrument to a different one.
He loved music.
But he also understood the important role pauses played in making music beautiful and establishing rhythm-he didn’t insist on every space being filled with sound.
When I’m tempted to stack my day so full I can’t think straight (often because I’m trying to chase away grief or sorrow) I try to remember that I need both sound and silence for a balanced and beautiful life.
Music is pleasing not only because of the sound but because of the silence that is in it: without the alternation of sound and silence there would be no rhythm. If we strive to be happy by filling all the silences of life with sound, productive by turning all of life’s leisure into work, and real by turning all our being into doing, we will only succeed in producing a hell on earth.
If we have no silence, God is not heard in our music. If we have no rest, God does not bless our work. If we twist our lives out of shape in order to fill every corner of them with action and experience, God will silently withdraw from our hearts and leave us empty.
Source: Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island


As an only child I often felt very alone in the silent spaces in my family home. As an adult I began to realise how precious those silent times are in our busy lives.
Almost everyone who knows me would say I am a noisy, gregarious person and I am but oh how I relish those totally alone times, no tv, music or tech stuff….the only child resurfaces.
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