People, especially recently, are uncomfortable with the idea of silence. Whenever it appears, everyone jumps onto their phones or feels the need to point out the discomfort of the moment. All because that moment is not immediately filled by conversation or stimulation.
I tend to find the value and comfort in silence. Of course, I break that silence very often because I sense discomfort in those around me. My experience with silence is that it can convey every possible emotion in a way that speaking cannot.
Silence forces reflection, because thoughts are required to fill the void that the lack of speech leaves. Sometimes that open air is what’s needed to solve an issue. It’s an open window that’s so easily slammed shut, a state of tranquility that is so easily shattered. Silence can be angry; it can be so powerful that souls clench in fear or general reaction to its presence.
It’s a friend who sometimes is the only person you want to see, and sometimes it’s the friend you complain about and wish you could leave behind.
We realize how violently effective silence can be. We use it as a weapon against one another out of anger or sadness.
Silence is a mask we hide behind. It cloaks and shrouds our secrets, but it can also say more than we ever could.
Silence kills us. Silence in the absence of social justice, silence in the face of injustice, silence within ourselves, too afraid to cry out or ask for help, for fear of being rejected or judged, for your crimes against yourself.
But silence also exists as a bridge. Jon Stewart once said, “If we amplify everything, then we hear nothing.” A lack of words or noise breeds understanding, and that alone brings peace.
Sitting by a pond with your friend who has just lost a loved one doesn’t need words of wisdom, but a deep understanding and personal reflection. Only silence can do that.
Only by quietness, both physically and of the mind, are you able to really, effectively listen to someone. How could you possibly really be hearing someone if your mind or attention is elsewhere?
To be able to sit with someone, including yourself in silence, without feeling the need to immediately fill it, to me, is a sign of great love.
Silence is a weapon and a friend; it is destructive, and yet it is art. It is incomprehensible, and yet it is a tool of comprehensiveness.
I challenge you to take at least three minutes a day to sit in silence, to come to be familiar with it, to understand its place in your world. You may find it plays a more important part than you know.
