What do you hear right now? Perhaps you hear only the voice in your head reading these words. Maybe you hear the hum of a heater, the click of a mouse or the rustle of pages. What, then, is utter silence? Does it exist, or is it just that we choose to avoid it?
I enjoy background noises. I play music while I clean my room or make vocabulary flashcards, play the television while I check my phone. What I sometimes miss, though, when I conceal the silence are the discrete sounds of life, such as the clink of a mug at a coffee shop or the laughter of the neighbor’s children on the swing set. Each sound is the product of a person or even a thing, the gentle clink produced by a nervous first-time employee or the joy of the first day of spring in the children’s laughter.
The world is overflowing with innumerable, unique sounds just as it is filled with every kind of person, creature, item, and thing. Each has a purpose, each has a role; these sounds are not merely a backdrop but instead a link into the life another. If we not only heard these sounds but listened to them, their source and meaning become easier to understand, to accept, to tolerate.
I once witnessed a conversation between friends that included many long pauses between each subject, yet their conversation was fruitful and covered many topics. I used to find discomfort in awkward silences. I felt as though words had to be thrown and conversation upheld like a wet towel being wrung out until there were no more words left to say. What I now understand is the essence of listening. To hear is to receive sound waves; to listen is to reflect.
I often hear an unequivocal interchange between the words 'shy' and 'introverted.' Introversion seems to have assumed a connotation of weakness. Perhaps this is because so many avoid the quiet or find it necessary to fill the void with their superfluous sounds. As an introvert, I choose my words carefully and speak when I have something to say.
Words are precious tokens of meaning and significance; their overuse devalues them. Too often, individuals speak simply to hear their own voices, yet I have found that a persistent, passionate voice communicates louder than an overused one. When the quiet girl speaks, everyone listens.
Introversion is an undervalued gift. The decibels produced by a voice cannot give credence to its words. The strongest voices are the ones filled with passion and perception. As an observer, I notice the overlooked details and analyze a situation thoughtfully before opening my mouth. Listening seems to be stigmatized as weak or passive, yet I find in it a display of strength. To listen is to demonstrate patience.
Without patience, the world would merely contain a jumble of voices too loud to be heard. These voices drown out the beautiful little sounds that exist in the silence. From these sounds, there is much to be learned.