Being in Silence -or- Climbing with the Silent Partner

“Sadness and silence, two things 

I keep in jars in my basement that

 I label “Warning: Do not open.” 

― Jarod Kintz,

Go to Google Images and type in “silence.”

I will tell you what you will find: a host of scary and disturbing images.  If you type in “silent” it is even worse.  The tenor of the images that come up in both searches can be summed up (with a few exceptions) with the following words: horror, demoniac, and despair.  In short, things that ought to be kept in tightly closed containers in the basement labeled “Warning: Do Not Open.”

And indeed, silence is a Pandora’s box.  Silence is not for the weak.  We associate “peace” and “quiet,” but silence is hardly quiet.  Rather, silence is scary.  It is demonic because it is unnatural.  Life in the world is loud.  Just take a walk through the country or in the woods.  One can hear non-human life bustling, chirping, clicking and shuffling.  And walk along a city street.  One hears the still louder sounds of human life unfolding: babies crying as they come into the world, adults laughing, and motors on all sorts of tools rumbling (even electric motors on cars and yard tools have a rather obtrusive hum).  I can hear now the sounds of ipods and alarm clocks and cell phones.  I can even hear my own cell phone cry out across the house when it is on “silent.”  When all of these things are truly silenced, our bones understand that a predator or a storm must be near--that all living things are waiting and hiding.  From each one’s own perspective, there is nothing more silent than the bated breath caused by a sense of horror, for even the slight sound of breath is suspended.  Noise is reassuring.  Those things that make sounds rarely have nefarious intent, and even if they do, at least we can hear them coming.

Though “quiet” and “peace” often come in tandem, the word is also commonly wed to “despair.”  Delight is a noisy affair, often coming with shouts, laughter and boasting.  But despair is...more subdued.  The one who is preoccupied with enduring has not the leisure or energy to expend on protest, and thus certainly not mirth.  Although spiritual pain might be better relieved with loud lamentations, as one overcoming physical pain with primal screams.  But, alas, for whatever reason, most feel compelled to suffer psychologically, spiritually (and sometimes even physically) in relative silence.  Perhaps the thought is to remain unnoticed, so as to show no weakness.  Despair, too, becomes all-consuming; the despairing one is too focussed on the inner life, the sounds of which are deadened by the insulation of the mind and heart.  No one else hears the tumult.

Here we arrive at the deep, inherent scariness of silence...the inner life.  

Silence is unnerving because in silence the only thing before one’s consciousness is one’s own nerves.  And they produce the loudest cacophony of all.  

“Silence can often be more disturbing than noise, 

it reveals the complicated mechanism of our thoughts” 

― Jose Rodrigues Migueis

Soren Kierkegaard wrote extensively on the relationship we each have with ourselves.  He believed that there was only one person, one thing, in the world that you could not overcome.  In a word, yourself.  I am an even match to myself.  Therein lies the eternal struggle.  So eternal, in point of fact, that God--the One who is timeless--intercedes to free me from my biggest oppressor.  (And if you do not like that language, I would point you to the thought and work of Malcolm X and James Cone.  Both of their stances on racial oppression in 20th and 21st Century United States convey a similar idea--with more widespread and traumatic implications.  **For a longer treatment of the comparison and contrast of Cone and Kierkegaard’s thought, I will post a paper I wrote in seminary on a new page of my blog.  [So, yeah, I couldn't do this because footnoted papers do not translate well to the blogosphere...if you would like to read the paper, contact me and I will send you a PDF.  Sorry for the inconvenience.] )  

If I met another that was unequal to me, then two possibilities exist: first, I am the stronger, and so I overwhelm the other.  Or, second, I am the weaker.  In this case, I am overwhelmed, but I can always go away with some consolation, i.e. the stronger is supposed to win or I ultimately overcome by surviving and moving on.  If I met another that was equal to me, then there is a stalemate...but the struggle will still end--either with a sense of mutual respect, or with some degree of indignant loathing.  And I can always overcome the one who is equal or the one who is stronger by being, “the bigger person.”  One need only change one’s measure of success, given the situation.

But when the opponent is one’s self, when one is trapped in conflict against one’s self, there can be neither victory nor stalemate, nor consolation.  One cannot be “the bigger person” in relationship to one’s self.  At least, not under one’s own power.

I say all of this not to prove that silence is scary, but rather the proof of the former is the fact that (most) people are afraid of silence.  And even the one who is not afraid of silence, will fear it at some point again.  Because in silence we have nothing to hear, nothing to see, nothing to study or attend to other than the self.  And this makes us dreadfully uncomfortable.  Why?  Because the soul is so deep.  Because one spends so much of one’s time listening to other things, that when one occasionally listens only to  one’s self, the sound (the voice) is foreign.  And in life, over the course of time, one’s soul grows deeper, and one’s personality is changed by various and sundry experiences.  We are each and all of the opinion that we ought to, at the very least, know our respective selves.  At the very least, I should have control over my inner being (our culture gives us this story of radical agency of the individual, over the individual).  And in silence we realize how little we know...how little our self-governance actually accomplishes.  The mirror of silence reveals an unanticipated visage. 

When silence occurs while in the presence of another person, the effect is even more anxiety-producing.  One gazes in the same mirror, while at the same time feeling someone else looking over one’s shoulder.  Of course, one cannot hear the thoughts of another, but the nearby presence is enough to imagine the voyeuristic tableau.  And this produces some amount of shame.

Ah, but if one is comfortable with oneself, then silence is not scary.  It may always be work or striving or struggle, but it is not fear-inducing.  Furthermore, if one engages in silence enough, then the silence shared between two people also becomes a comfort.  The two are sharing in a most intimate activity.  It may not say anything about the relationship.  However, it says a great deal about the individuals.  Then again, I suppose that if one can love one’s self in the presence of another, then there is an openness and freedom that can only be created by the deep mutual trust that is only produced in love.

We have, at last, reached the heart of the matter.  Do not be afraid of silence, because it is the arena in which love strives to win it all.  Silence gives space and place for love to overcome our inner crisis (or crises).  

Be still and know...

...know that God loves you.

...know that you have every reason to love yourself.

...know that you need not fear the judgement of others.

...know that that very stillness will give you inner strength.

...know that I AM.  (Or I suppose...you are.) 

Now, if you will pardon me, I am called to silence.

“In the ultimate stillness

Light penetrates the whole realm;

In the still illumination,

There pervades pure emptiness.

When I look back on the

Phenomenal world,

Everything is just

Like a dream.” 

― Han-shan Te-Ch'ing