Recently, when I had bronchitis and lost my voice for a week, I became more aware of the conversational patterns that fill our lives along with the deep power of silence.
Americans are generally uncomfortable with silence, providing small talk as verbal “filler.” When I was waiting for a transaction in a bank, the clerk apparently wanted to be polite, so he repeatedly asked me questions about my job, my books, and my writing career, although I could hardly talk above a whisper.
Talking without listening is rampant in our busy, noisy culture. At business meetings, people often don’t listen because they’re busy rehearsing what they’re going to say. Then their responses are disjointed, illogical, even inappropriate. Real communication requires both listening and speaking, but some people don’t realize this. Last year, when faculty members told a school administrator that he needed to communicate better, he responded by scheduling more faculty meetings filled with his top-down lectures and announcements.
Carl Rogers’ major contribution to psychotherapy was his emphasis on “active listening,” mirroring back what people said to let them know they’d been heard. An empathic, active listener offers a warm, respectful space where people can express their deepest needs. The power of listening creates bridges of understanding, healing individuals, relationships, and communities.
I learned a lot from my week of silence. Now I watch myself, wondering how often I use meaningless filler or talk without listening.
Silence can be powerful. Gandhi kept a day of silence each week. On Mondays, no matter what was happening, he went about his day without talking, writing notes to people when necessary. He said he needed the strength gained from silence to carry on his nonviolent campaign to liberate India.
Calling us back to ourselves, silence can liberate us from routine, revealing greater wisdom and insight. Many artists and writers spend hours in silence and solitude. My Jesuit colleagues at Santa Clara University make 30-day silent retreats for discernment and renewal of their vocations.
How about you? This week, take time to listen to the patterns of sounds and silence within and around you.
- Spend an hour without talking—listen mindfully to yourself and your responses to the world around you.
- Practice active listening with someone you know.
Then ask yourself, “What did I learn from the sounds and silence?”
Namaste,
Diane
Thank you, Diane. Having spent most of my life as a high school teacher, parent, and husband, opportunities for silence have been few and far between. I have occasionally taken a weekend off to savor the sounds of silence at the Jesuit Retreat Center in Los Altos, but the cost has become prohibitive.
There are still other opportunities for me to create silent space in my life. I often sit on the patio at home, stare into the row of redwood trees, and practice the Japanese art of Shinrin yoku (forest bathing). It’s powerful. And just today, I opted to leave the radio off during a solo drive to and from San Francisco. The silence was a true gift.