Exploring the Silence

[Guest guest]

Exploring the Silence

by Mahler

It takes nothing to appreciate peace and quiet. But for most of us, it's

been a long time since we really did nothing. When I was a child, I

loved Saturdays. Possibilities always seemed endless, stretching from

early morning cartoons on to late night rock'n'roll on the AM radio.

Weekdays were dominated by school. Sundays meant church, family

gatherings, and homework. But, other than the obligation to do a few

chores, Saturdays belonged to me.

I grew up during the 1950s in a small town in northern California, about

thirty miles east of San Francisco. Our community was tight-knit, and

the worst crime was teenage drag racing on Main Street during the wee

hours. When Saturday rolled around, I spent leisurely hours hanging out

with neighborhood boys about my age. We played games on front lawns,

built elaborate treehouses, and used scrap wood to construct " coasters "

to ride down Castle Hill Road. If the weather was lousy, we might go to

the matinee or play Monopoly on a living room carpet.

Looking back on those years, I realize that on most Saturdays I also

found time to explore silence and solitude. I was not conscious of this

choice, but it must have been deliberate. Sometimes I would find a quiet

place to read a book or draw pictures. I took hikes with my dog,

Wibbles, through the nearby hills that were studded with California live

oaks and carpeted with wildflowers. Other times I would explore the

creek that flowed near our home, its banks a jungle of overhanging

trees, sinuous vines, and thick brush. I discovered early on that if my

dog and I kept still and silent, we could observe wild animals—deer,

raccoons, skunks, squirrels, turtles, frogs, and snakes. The rewards of

quiet alone-time were self-evident.

As I grew, my Saturday pockets of silence and solitude gradually

disappeared. In college, I spent weekends visiting friends, studying,

reading assigned texts, or writing papers, not to mention the

much-disliked task of laundry. After graduation, when I began working

full-time, Saturdays and Sundays filled with the necessary errands,

socializing, and unfulfilled obligations held over from weekdays. The

carefree hours of youth faded to distant memory.

In recalling that era now, the spaciousness of my days seems an

inconceivable luxury, given my conviction as an adult that there is

always more to do than there is time. Yet in the recent past I have

accepted that it will never be possible to do everything I want, and

that sometimes exploring unscheduled time is the best thing for me, as

it was during childhood.

" It is not merely the trivial which clutters our lives but the important

as well, " concluded Anne Morrow Lindbergh in her memoir, Gift from the

Sea. Even with clutter pruned away, a full and active life offers " too

many worthy activities, valuable things, and interesting people. "

A critical step in the embrace of silence and solitude is setting aside

the notion that we have to be " doing something " throughout our waking

hours. For most of us, this goes against what we have been taught since

childhood: that being active and productive is the best way to proceed.

Many factors feed into this, including the strong work ethic that has

shaped American culture. Everywhere we turn, there is ample praise and

support for the individual who strives to " get ahead. " When we are idle,

by definition, we are not striving and therefore going against the grain

of social imperatives.

From the outset, we must give ourselves permission to set an appointment

to experience silence and solitude, setting aside the baggage of

negative connotations that may be associated with " nondoing. " Some may

regard carving quiet alone-time out of a full agenda as a kind of

cop-out. From this mindset, we are escaping reality, feeling sorry for

ourselves, shirking responsibility, or, at best, wasting time. In our

culture, taking time for ourselves is " not being productive. "

Productivity is widely praised, with little regard to its human costs.

Many of us live on tight budgets, working overtime or a taking a second

job to make ends meet. With so much demanded of us for mere economic

survival, stopping to experience silence and solitude may seem

irresponsible at best. Living within strict financial limits, there

seems no real need for introspection, thinking we know what is going on:

" I'm simply trying to get by as best as I can! "

The irony is that an ongoing adoption of quiet alone-time potentially

heightens awareness of what's really going on in our lives, which in

turn may contribute directly to a balanced, healthy lifestyle and

rewarding personal growth. From a purely practical standpoint, such

ostensible nonactivity may " pay for itself " by helping us become more

efficient, perceptive, and focused in how we spend all other waking

hours. We may even become more " productive. "

Looking inward does not necessarily lead to noble insight or poetic

inspiration—though these may present themselves—but it usually

coaxes out the significant truths of everyday existence:

" My daughter was trying to tell me something last Thursday and I didn't

really hear her. "

" I am happiest at work when someone comments favorably on the good job

I've done "

" My stomach hurts and I get irritable when I drink too much coffee "

" I have let an important friendship wither because of laziness and

neglect. "

Feeling that there is some kind of payoff to exploring quiet alone-time

is essential for most of us, since we tend not to go beyond the ruts of

our conditioned behaviors unless we anticipate a likely benefit. This

can get tricky, since the transformations we notice within the context

of silence and solitude derive from the experience itself. If we get too

attached to the expectation and desire for a specific outcome— " good "

or " bad " —we may either ignore other equally informative results or

influence the experience while it is happening to us. We need to trust

that something worthy will happen, based on the reports of others and

our own intuition, and plunge ahead on faith.

Despite my conviction that quiet alone-time is good for me, I still find

it challenging to find time each day for a little silence and solitude.

Sometimes my entire day is planned in minute-by-minute increments, with

scarcely time to use the bathroom or grab a sandwich. At such times my

body feels rigid with tension, even after eight hours of sleep. The last

thing I want is to sit calmly with my eyes closed, performing a ritual

that nonetheless has been part of my routine for many years.

I have learned that these jammed-to-overflowing days are precisely the

ones during which I feel the most tangible and far-reaching effects of

my quiet alone-time. Instead of turning away from this nourishing

ritual, I must turn toward it. This effort can be very challenging when

I am feeling overloaded and stressed out.

I realize I am not taking time to inhabit silence and solitude each day;

I am making time for it. The distinction is important because it

reflects my trust in the worthiness of what quiet alone-time provides

me. If I did not truly believe that my life would be different for

having made this effort, I would have abandoned it long ago. This

self-assurance depends on the kind of steadfast " knowing " that one must

also come to if the embrace of silence and solitude is to realize its

full potential.

Breaking our cycles of rote behavior can be exhausting and frustrating.

The power of long-held habits seems inexorable, as anyone knows who has

tried to do something as " simple " as modifying unhealthy eating habits.

Knowing this fact of human nature, it helps to embrace solitude and

silence with a non-judging mind, a light heart, and an optimistic

attitude. A new ritual is unlikely to take hold the first time we try

it; we may need to repeat the effort a hundred times or more before it

becomes part of our daily routine.

Give yourself room to fail, recommitting again and again to your embrace

of quiet alone-time--as often as necessary. Praise yourself every time

you find a space that allows you to be quiet and alone—even for ten

minutes—within the fullness of your busy life. Don't try to do too

much, since bigger failures tend to discourage us more than small ones.

Even making a tiny attempt to embrace silence and solitude is in itself

a generous, healthy, and hopeful act. It is a self-loving gift that

carries many ramifications. Be gentle and kind to yourself as you try to

make room for contemplative stillness in your life. FIVE WAYS TO GET

STARTED

• Make a personalized " inventory " of times and places in your

schedule that you feel would best accommodate an ongoing embrace of

silence and solitude.

• Mark " quiet alone-time " on your calendar, the same way you would

note a business appointment or a trip to the dentist. This will give

these moments the respect they deserve.

• Notice how you respond—emotionally, physically,

psychologically—when your life feels overcrowded, out of control, or

excessively noisy. At the same time, pay attention to your feelings when

moments of silence and solitude come along. Ask yourself; " What can I

learn from these experiences? "

• When you inhabit quiet alone-time, turn off the phone, lock the

door, ignore your e-mail, and resist the temptation to read or listen to

music. Instead, disconnect from all extraneous " input " so that you may

find stillness within.

• Talk to those closest to you—your spouse, partner, children,

parents, siblings, best friend—about the ways you and they relate to

silence and solitude, to noise and congestion, to distractions and

overloads. Feel free to express whatever concerns each of you may have

about carving out time for yourselves to be quiet and alone.

As much as I enjoyed interacting with others, I wanted space in which I

could interact with myself. When I did find intervals of downtime, being

alone for an hour or two felt wonderful: luxurious, healing, calming,

and exhilarating. I both needed and wanted to make a new habit out of

creating these oasis-like islands of serenity. The pertinent question

was, " How? " The answer sounded simple: " Figure out a way to disconnect

from distractions and set an appointment with myself to be quiet and

alone. " But, as we all know, the simplest goals are often the most

difficult to achieve.

" You need to start slowly, with baby steps, " advised a friend, whose

long-time experience as a teacher had rendered many truths about how

people learn. " If you take on too much, " said, " you are likely to

feel overwhelmed and discouraged. Set a realistic target of settling

down for about fifteen minutes each day. Once you've made this a habit,

you can try making your island of calm a little bigger. "

I did as suggested, and I discovered that disconnecting from my

overbooked life was not so difficult after all. And because my

experiences with silence and solitude felt so rewarding, I rarely felt I

was giving up anything of greater importance. NURTURE SILENCE AND

SOLITUDE

Although we may feel like we have no real say about how we spend our

time, a careful and honest examination reveals this cannot literally be

true. We make choices each day that explicitly reflect our personal

values and individual priorities. When these commitments shift, so can

our decisions about how we use our discretionary time and space.

Here are some times and places to consider for your adoption of quiet

alone-time:

• Right after you get up in the morning. You may wish to wake up a

bit earlier in order to accommodate this alone-time.

• During moments you would otherwise spend watching mediocre or

negatively-themed TV shows.

• Commuting or running errands in your car. Turn off the music or

radio and enjoy your own thoughts and perceptions.

• In your bedroom: create a " retreat space. "

• As part of a soothing hot bath. Make it more luxurious with salts,

scents, or candles. If you have no bathtub, make an appointment to visit

a spa, hot springs, upscale hotel, bed-and-breakfast, or friend's hot

tub.

• While sitting in a waiting room, a doctor's office, or a dentist's

chair.

• As part of scheduled breaks at work or, if you're a student,

between classes.

• In your spare (or guest) room, which might become a destination

for mini-retreats.

• In an unused office or employee lounge at work or in school,

perhaps used by others for this purpose.

• In your own garden, yard, or a nearby public park.

• In a local church, temple, mosque, or shrine, including

surrounding gardens.

• During a walk. Remember that motion keeps the left side of the

brain busy, while the right side is free to wander, uncensored and

imaginative.

As you make shifts in the way you use your time, you will confront

resistance—from yourself and others. Friends and family may not

understand why you are doing things differently, even when you explain

your reasons. Within yourself, the part of you that dislikes change and

craves predictability will put up a fight. These struggles are

instructive in themselves, because they reveal how attached we are to

what is predictable, even when the familiar no longer serves us.

After we connect with silence and solitude, the workaday world gradually

may begin to look and feel slightly different. This fresh perspective

has the power to change our lives. For instance, we can change our

relationship with ourselves—simply paying closer attention to how we

spend our time. Some among us may begin, easily and willingly, to

streamline an over-committed lifestyle. Others may discover that less

really is more, that a simpler life can be a richer and more satisfying

one. The possibilities are endless. Those Saturdays of childhood can

live within us once again, if only for a few minutes each morning.

CREATING REFUGE IN YOUR HOME

Any place we live must accommodate a number of activities: socializing,

sleeping, cooking, eating, bathing, relaxing. But what about quiet

alone-time? Renowned mythologist ph insisted we all need a

place to " simply experience and bring forth what [we] are and what [we]

might be. " If it doesn't already exist in your home, consider creating a

kind of sanctuary (or sanctuaries) where you and other family members

can go to experience silence and solitude. This space will be welcoming

as a function of its serenity, beauty, and privacy. Suggestions include:

• A corner of a bedroom or spare room works well. Most of us don't

have space enough to devote an entire room to such a refuge, and there

is no particular need to do so.

• Place yourself beyond the sounds of TV, radio, electronic games,

music players, and so on.

• Get rid of background noise, which is distracting when we seek

quiet.

• Minimize clutter. Having too much " stuff " around is another kind

of distraction, which can drain our energy and undermine our internal

reflection.

• Make the area aesthetically pleasing. Plants or flowers tend to

promote a sense of peacefulness, as do favorite beautiful objects,

photographs, or paintings. Positive associations may arise from pictures

of loved ones (including pets), past and present.

• Leave work somewhere else. Any reminders of obligations beyond

your retreat space may make it more difficult to settle your mind and

rest your spirit.

• Sound-masking devices, ranging from white noise generators to

self-contained fountains, may make it easier to forget what is going on

in the clamorous world beyond your home. Soft, soothing music is another

option.

• Consider using your space for other mind-body activities that are

potentially stress reducing or sacred to you, such as yoga, meditation,

prayer, and chanting. BENEFITS OF SOLITUDE

While great attention is devoted to the perceived negative aspects of

being alone, surprisingly little has been written about the positive

attributes of silence and solitude. Our most celebrated thinkers and

pundits tend to reflect the prevailing view that humans are social,

gregarious, and crowd-loving animals by nature. Many insist that a

desire to separate from the group is somehow a dysfunctional or even a

hostile act. A growing number of commentators, however, offer alternate

interpretations of human needs, desires, and behaviors. Here are some of

the most frequently observed associations with quiet alone-time. What

would you add to this list?

• Freedom to fantasize.

• Development of the imagination.

• Cultivation of abstract thought.

• Heightened awareness.

• Healing during stress, mourning, or other trauma.

• Improved concentration.

• Access to religious, spiritual, or mystical experiences.

• Better problem-solving abilities.

• Liberation from unwanted distractions.

• Effective pain management skills.

• The rich company of one's mind, body, and spirit.

• Expanded self-understanding.

This article is excerpted from Stillness, by Mahler.

Reprinted with permission of the publisher, Red Wheel/Weiser.

www.redwheelweiser.com

About the Author

Mahler is a writer who lives in Santa Fe when he isn't off in

the wilderness alone. He has written widely about travel, the

environment, spirituality, and politics. Author of eight books including

Secrets of Becoming a Late Bloomer and Tending the Earth, Mending the

Spirit, also teaches a form of stress reduction that relies on

meditation and yoga.

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" Breathe deep, walk slow, hold tight to those you love, for the sun is

setting and it will be over so fast. "

-- Ken Pierpont

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