"I have a need of silence and of stars;
Too much is said too loudly; I am dazed.
The silken sound of whirled infinity
Is lost in voices shouting to be heard."
William Alexander Perry

The waters of the Puget Sound are roiling at dusk on this New Years Day. Folks are out on the beach anyway, braving the weather, but even from a distance it is clear conversation is at a minimum among those hardy souls. A cold wind is blowing strong, kicking up sand and a salty spray, discouraging speech of any kind. Shoulders are braced, hoods are tightened, cell phones are pocketed and eyes are focused outward: toward the mountains and the gulls and a lingering sunset of amber and purple and steely blue. These humans are, for the moment, quiet and free of words.

There is much we have to discuss in 2017. Our nation, our world, is in great need of words; effective, considered, inclusive, constructive words with the capacity to breed change of a comparable quality. But my concern, my belief, is that unless the majority of us treat ourselves responsibility, allowing time for maintenance of our bodies and our minds, time for quiet and reflection, time away from the excessive and overly-commercialized stream of words that has become the standard fare of our time, we will not have the capacity to make any worthy difference in our own lives, let alone in the lives of others. We will not have the capacity to harness useful words in service of useful impacts. My concern is this sea of words will simply swallow us all.

We are inundated with words and I've grown weary of the vast majority of them. I've grown weary of tweets and blogs (irony noted) and podcasts and media, streamed or printed or waved out from my radio. I've grown weary of brash opinions and easy answers and impulsive commentary. I am particularly weary of money-washed words thoughtlessly spilled by privileged factions, their blitzkrieg of obfuscation and deaf-ears certainty. But quality aside, I've simply grown weary of the sheer quantity words.

I am well aware that the volume of recorded words, in relation to my capacity to read or to hear them, has been effectively infinite and beyond reach since before I was conceived. And I suspect human-kind may have had an innate propensity toward unchecked chatter since the advent of language. Still, the bombardment of words today, the inescapability of the sources and the pressure to attend to those sources, has escalated to a tsunami of communication. And we are all paying the price for this deluge; in our moods, in our relationships, in our capacity to slow down, get a grip and think before we leap into the fray. We are drowning in a sea of words.

This is what I am hearing from patients on the front line, folks in the pursuit of change: Intention to, but not enough time, energy or will to, exercise. Intention to, but not enough time, energy or will to, eat better. Intention to, but not enough time, energy or will to, target more sleep or less sloth or pursue anything creative. Their dilemma is not unique, right? Most of us easily relate to this confounding inability to shift our behavior, to harness the motivation for change.

But in the face of this growing epidemic of inertia, what do we always find time to do? We always find time to ingest words. We read books, blogs and websites on how to improve exercise and diet and sleep and every other healthy enterprise imaginable. We learn. We plan. And then, even with our best intentions secured, we binge on Netflix or Youtube or Facebook or CNN. We morph right back into the time-eating and intention-nullifying world of others' words. (Compulsive video gaming is a variation on this propensity to escape into alternative narratives.)

I have listened to my share of phenomenal podcasts, episodes that have improved my understanding and broadened my perspective on everything from economics to physics. I am grateful to the miracle of social networking, allowing me to read posts from family and friends across long-distances and time-zones. And I have read amazingly illuminating blogs and articles and books, collections of words whose inspiration have not only bettered me as a psychiatric nurse practitioner, but have bettered me as a person.

Yet, as with all things, words are best consumed with moderation. The torrent of words to which we are increasingly exposed can compromise our energy, negate our resolve, thwart our goals. Patients regularly confirm this for me. They speak of the distracting power of their TV, their computer, their phone. They speak of time lost to compulsive viewing or impulsive posting or mindless reading. They speak of feeling overwhelmed, of their inability to step away from the din, of their discouragement and regret in the wake of wasted hours. They are, indeed, drowning in a sea of words.

The sun has set behind the Olympic Mountains. The sky is darkening and the beach is emptying. Voices can once again be heard as folks head back to their cars. I may be mistaken, but I would gamble that if I queried any of those people about the time they just spent, time on a stormy waters edge, time in a brisk wind, wordless time with a setting sun, if I asked them if they regretted any of those minutes, I feel certain they would look at me like I had lost my mind.

Wishing you a year filled with fewer words, greater momentum and occasional moments of precious quiet.

Linda J. Rohan, ARNP