Silence is so infrequently Golden. Even if we're quiet when the old adage says we should be -- when we can preserve dignity, power and influence -- it's really only mostly tarnished silver, because it's cluttered with other sounds and meanings.

But sometimes it's worth gold and more:

-when a flock of birds rises up from the long grass, and you can hear every wing in the quiet

-when you have been speaking another language all day, and sink into a chair to recalibrate your tongue and brain

-when a fussy child falls sound asleep

-when a relative finally dies after a long, suffering illness

-when guns stop blasting out the cadence of war

Silence can be such a blessing. It's so rare, nowadays. Even in my quiet hotel room, I can hear the hum of an air conditioner, the slap of doors, the sweeg-clunk of a vacuum cleaner, and the fweep-fweep of a carlock being disabled. Yet silence can be deeply restorative, like sleep or clean air. It's a place just to be, and be clear.