HOWLING WOLVES AND HUSH PUPPIES

I don’t remember when I started adding a wolf howl to the end of my prayers. And to the end of some songs at Sunday services. And whenever I want to punctuate something.

It’s not every time, but it’s become a fairly regular thing. I suppose some people might find it a little weird, but the weirdness is a big part of what I like about it — the wild abandon of a primal exclamation. The freedom of a full-throated bay at the moon, for the world, to Life Itself.

It feels pretty great to let loose solo, and it’s even better when a whole pack of us start howling together.

I believe in self-expression, that one of the main things each of us is here for is to express our unique self — to share our heart, our passions, our voice. In praise, appreciation, celebration, protest, disagreement — raising our voices with and through any and all of it. We remember that we matter, that what we have to say matters. Thus, we become a chorus together, contributing harmony and beauty, dissonance and resolution, a rich narrative of complexity and nuance. The song of Life moving ever forward.

Lately, though, I find myself longing for more quiet.

Not instead of the howling, necessarily, but in addition to it. The world will always need us to speak up and sing out. AND — I think maybe I need to allow myself more quiet moments in between. When I’m not saying anything. Or singing or howling. Or thinking about what I’m going to say or should’ve said.

Maybe sometimes we could just be: Space… Openness… Listening… Opportunity… Possibility…

Because of course, there can be as much connection and communion in quiet as there is in all our noise. Maybe more. Indeed, only in silence are we really in unison.

Claude Debussy said, “Music is the silence between notes.”

Man, I love that. Debussy composed the gorgeous Clair de Lune — “Moonlight —” which is just a perfect title for this tender and evocative piano piece. It’s also a sweet reminder that while the moon often does invite us wolves to howl, it also calls us to quiet, and stillness, and peace.

I can’t wait to be with you this Sunday, May 25. With the divine Patty Stephens. XO, Drew

©2025 Drew Groves