On Silence

I’ve been considering what Plato said: “wise men speak because they have something to say, fools because they have to say something.”

But can we all sit around waiting for something useful to say? We feel uncomfortable and so we feel the need to fill the gap with empty words.

But why take up space with something meaningless?

Perhaps it’s the illusion of progress, illusion of meaning, the notion that this conversation, this life, is going somewhere. We’re so scared it could all be nothing.

I don’t want to fill the silence for the sake of it. I want the words to have meaning. Or just listen to the eloquence and depth of silence.  

You shake your head, in disbelief that silence can have meaning. To you, silence is only a barrier, an awkward space, the evidence of a lack of connection, a lack of intimacy, a lack of identity. 

I tell you of a silence I know. Two people sitting together, comfortably, without a word: bound by a connection so deep they can let their lips rest. A silence that can unite, a silence that can understand.

You ask me why I hold back. You slander silence as submissive, weak, dividing. Speak, share yourself with me.

Silence leaves room to breathe, to think, to meditate. With silence, you can listen. It is humbleness, it keeps you grounded. It’s the little gaps between our conversation that allow us to reflect, to rejuvenate.

Rejuvenate aloud.

I don’t want to say what I don’t mean. I don’t want to be a burden in my uncertainty.

I can bear it with you.

You speak without thinking.

I speak my thoughts.

I sigh and I nod. Your eyes lock with mine.        I know. So do I. But silence is healing too. 

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