GUIDELINES: Take Time for Silence

Not only do we need time alone; we also need time for silence. Silence is not empty; it is surprisingly filled. Without sufficient time alone and in silence, we lose our sense of self. We sense ourselves better in silence than in noise. The sonar of silence probes more deeply into our soul’s state than the ripples of conversation. Comfort with silence is a sign of comfort with our souls. You find out how at home you are with yourself in silence.

We need both silence and words, of course. We need to share and connect with others in words, to recognize and lift off burdens, to clarify through speaking and listening. A burden that cannot be shared, cannot be lifted. We also need to listen to ourselves in silence, to sense our state, and to invite our inner self to step forward into the light of knowledge and affirmation.

I never want to live again in a noisy environment. Research shows that too much noise is destructive to our orientation and sense of identity. I remember living in Manhattan in the late 1960’s. Though I enjoyed New York, but I could not stand the constant noise. Even in the middle of the night, the city roared with an undifferentiated hum.

Then my wife and I moved to a farm outside Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, where I got a teaching position in psychology at Iowa Wesleyan College. The silence of the farm, the open skies and flat expanse of Henry County were restorative, daily sources of joy.

I think everyone should go on a yearly retreat, whether for a day or a week. Wherever it may be, and whatever your faith convictions, a retreat offers a unique opportunity for psychic recharging. Most of the recharging will happen during time alone, during silence. As is said, “Be still and know.”

Silence is for letting go and letting be. It is for listening. It is for remembering. It is for forgetting. It is for re-tuning your soul, made possible by the tuning fork silence affords. Just spending time in silence can change you, can give you a new and hopefully better perspective on your life.

Yet so many fear silence. The first thing many of us do when we enter our homes is to turn on the radio or television. Granted, silence is especially difficult to take when grieving the loss of a loved one. For silence makes us more acutely aware of our loss, of emptiness, of aloneness where there had been togetherness.

When I was at boot camp in the military, my mother sent me a poem. I had to hide my tears from the Drill Instructor pacing up and down the squad bay. The poem began, “The quiet’s too loud/ engulfs like a shroud,/ How I long for a piercing shriek;/ The slam of the door, and junk on the floor,/ And the cry, ‘Hey, Mom, what’s to eat?’”

These words mean even more to me now that our children have grown up and left home.

I learned as a counselor to respect the healing balm of silence. To sit in silence waiting for insight, or emotions to settle, is a good thing. I’ve seen healing happen during silence, sitting there with another. Sometimes just being connected with another in silence is enough.