On Silence

The wind is blowing fiercely this morning.

It makes a nice counterpoint to the rain that was falling earlier this morning, which seems to have disappeared at the moment.  The outside is becoming dimly grey as the sun begins its journey behind the clouds, a dim pervasive light that slowly raises the gloom inside.

The wind blows through the fireplace.  I can hear it as it fuels the draught that burns the wood inside and drives the fireplace fan on top of the firebox, which quietly clicks away as it blows heat into the room.

I do not suppose I need the heat at this level - it is already warm enough in here.  But the sound and color bring me a certain joy and it costs me nothing, so I let it burn and add another log to the fire.

There is a certain simplicity in all of this - were I to pull down my laptop, I would sit in the ever lessening gloom.  With exception of the airliners that occasionally fly overhead, things are largely silent and even possibly as they were a hundred years ago.

I have written before - and often - of the silence that I find here.  Not the silence of the absence of sound - there is never that in the real world - as much as the silence of the modern world:  the cars, industrial noises, random noises of civilization, and even people.

I am prone it is as well, perhaps more often than I care to admit.  I will often fill the silence at New Home with noise - not so much to fill the nothing with something as to drown out the other noises that are going on around me.  An instinctive reaction perhaps; a right reaction, not at all.

Silence seems to make us uncomfortable.  Perhaps it should:  silence forces us in upon ourselves in a way that a world of sound does not.  We have nothing else to interrupt us, so we are forced back to an internal conversation and review, something which can often be uncomfortable.

"The unexamined life is not worth living."  This is credited to Socrates via Plato and has made its way into the common lexicon of motivational speeches, motivational posters, and memes.  But do we really believe it?  We smile grimly as we hear or see these words, agreeing internally that we need to rigorously examine ourselves.  

But only on our terms:  when it is convenient, when it is not burdensome, when we have the time.

Silence distorts this.  Silence is now, silence is inescapable.  Silence makes us examine ourselves simply because we have nowhere else to turn in the silence but inward.  All the great contemplative traditions recognize silence as a critical factor to growth and self-understanding.  They inherently know something that the modern world does not:  silence increase self examination and knowledge while the constant filling of our lives with meaningless sounds decreases it, leaving us in a bemused state, unable to focus on that which is truly critical.

Outside, the first bird of the morning has started sounding.