Monday 6 November 2000

Pic of the day: Even the sea can be quiet. Here from Dale, in the Dalsfjord.

Sound of silence

"Why do most people fear silence?" I asked myself as I left my flat and locked my door. "Because of the gibbering voices in their head?" proposed a voice in my head. "OK" I thought, "let me try." -I stopped talking silently to myself and just listened to the voices inside of me. They were singing:

"But I don't mind at all
Because it's you and me
And all I've ever wanted I can see
In your eyes, in your eyes..."

(Chris de Burgh, In your eyes)

Now that was a surprise. But I think my point still stands: People fear silence because they fear themselves.

***

Humans are social creatures, usually living in small tribes or clans. Complete silence is not natural for them - it is a sign that they have become separated from the flock. Now, unlike more extreme herd animals, humans can operate alone for a while when the need arises. Thanks to their excellent memory, they can remember that they are still part of a tribe, and know that they willl soon be reunited with their loved ones. Still, the absence of human sounds tends to get to virtually anyone eventually. Solitary confinement is considered a cruel punishment.

Even when there are no human sounds, there are still degrees of silence. The most ominous is the complete silence where not a bird chirps, no sign of life. In nature, this will often be a sign that a dangerous predator is near. No wonder it unnerves people too, even though we are dangerous predators. (Well, perhaps not me, but some.)

***

And yet, we need silence. Perhaps I should say "comparative silence". Quiet. When the darkness falls, and the bustle of daily activity ceases, sounds should be muted. As the evening progresses, a hush should fall. The satisfied quiet of a safe sleeping place, where a poor mammal can safely rest and recharge. As talk grows sporadic, the waking mind and the dreams move closer. And amid slow breathing and soft shuffle, they reach out to another. And in an unforgettable moment always forgotten, they touch, and for an instant we become whole.

To most of us, I think, the gift is given to sometimes touch our wholeness this way at other times too. Relaxing in safety and relative quiet, we can turn our minds inward. And there it is, beckoning to us. The world of peace within, a state without words and their worries. This touch of silence is the simplest form of meditation. Can you remember it? Can you recall it - call it back to you? Can you get it to come and stay for a little while? Probably, if you have the time, and the quiet, and the courage to listen to the sound of silence.

For those who do not fear being alone, do not fear the silence, do not fear the parts of themselves that are still behind the veil ... for those, the touch of stillness may gradually come more often. The quiet may seep into their soul. They hardly notice, but it becomes easier to return the soul to its peace. The howls of distraction around them start to pass by outside in some strange way. It just doesn't get to them as easily as it did. It's like they're wearing the silence with them wherever they go, an invisible padded armor.

And in this silence thoughts start to form, that seem to shatter when forced into the form of words. Thoughts too wide and too deep to build from mere sounds, the way you can't really sew together a seafaring boat from leaves.

But in the dark silence
and in the void of all sensation
something began to know
that there were no bounds
there were no bounds

(No bounds, by G.O.L.)

My morning thoughts and the whole entry were inspired by the collaborative project Ampersand. To be honest, I don't know more about it than you. But their current topic was "Silence: silencing, quiet or the absence of noise or sound." And since I've written nothing but travel diaries for over a week now ... :)