The Eloquent Sounds of Silence

The eloquence of silence or the eloquence of silence

EVERY ONE OF US KNOWS THE SENSATION OF GOING UP, on retreat, to a high place and feeling ourselves so lifted up that we can hardly imagine the circumstances of our usual lives, or all the things that make us fret. In such a place, in such a state, we start to recite the standard litany : that silence is sunshine, where company is clouds; that silence is rapture, where company is doubt; that silence is golden, where company is brass.

Everyone knows the feeling when we retire to climb mountains The rising feeling, the joyful and uplifting mood makes us forget about ordinary life or irritating trivial matters. This situation prompts us to chant a standard prayer: When the noise is like mist, silence is like clouds and sunshine; when the noise is like confusion, silence is ecstasy; when the noise is like ordinary brass, silence is precious gold.

But silence is not so easily won. And before we race off to go prospecting in those hills, we might usefully recall that fool's gold is much more common and that gold has to be panned for, dug out from "All profound things and emotions of things are preceded and attended by Silence," wrote Herman Melville, one of the loftiest and most eloquent of souls. Working himself up to an ever more thunderous cry of affirmation, he went on, " Silence is the general consecration of the universe. Silence is the invisible laying on of the Divine Pontiff's hands upon the world. Silence is the only Voice of our God." For Melville, though, silence finally meant darkness and hopelessness and self-annihilation. Devastated by the silence that greeted his heartfelt novels, he retired into a public silence from which he did not emerge for more than 30 years. Then, just before his death, he came forth with his final utterance -- the luminous tale of Billy Budd -- and showed that silence is only as worthy as what we can bring back from it.

However, silence does not just come by accident.

Before we excitedly rush to the mountains to look for it, perhaps we should keep in mind that pyrite, which fools mistake for gold, is easier to obtain, but real gold requires laborious panning and digging to be harvested. One of the most arrogant and eloquent of writers, Herman Melville, wrote: "All profound things and their sentiments are preceded and blessed by silence." He went on to inspire even louder and thunderous cries of affirmation. Said: "Silence is a sacrifice of the universe. Silence is a gift given to this world by the invisible laying of hands of the divine Creator. Silence is the only voice of our God." However, for Melville, silence ultimately means darkness and despair. and self-annihilation. Because his sincere works received only silent responses, he was deeply shocked and exhausted physically and mentally. He retired in silence for thirty years. Then, before his untimely death, he reappears to deliver his last words - the glorious story of "Billy Budd" - showing that silence is only as valuable as what we gain from it.

We have to earn silence, then, to work for it: to make it not an absence but a presence; not emptiness but repletion. Silence is something more than just a pause; it is that enchanted place where space is cleared and time is stayed and the horizon itself expands. In silence, we often say, we can hear ourselves think; but what is truer to say is that in silence we can hear ourselves not think, and so sink below our selves into a place far deeper than mere thought allows. In silence, we might better say, we can hear someone else think.

Silence is something we need to earn; and then we have to work hard to make it exist rather than disappear. , full rather than empty. Silence is not just a moment of silence; it is an enchanting place where there are no barriers, where time stands still and where boundaries stretch themselves. We often say that silence allows us to hear our own thinking; however, to be more precise, silence allows us to hear not thinking, but to dive into a deeper realm than our thinking allows. Perhaps it is more appropriate to say that in silence we can hear the thoughts of others.

Or simply breathe. For silence is responsiveness, and in silence we can listen to something behind the clamor of the world. "A man who loves God, necessarily loves silence," wrote Thomas Merton, who was, as a Trappist, a connoisseur, a caretaker of silences. It is no coincidence that places of worship are places of silence: if idleness is the devil's playground, silence may be the angels'. It is no surprise that silence is an anagram of license . And it is only right that Quakers all but worship silence, for it is the place where everyone finds his God, however he may express it. Silence is an ecumenical state, beyond the doctrines and divisions created by the mind. If everyone has a spiritual story to tell of his life, everyone has a spiritual silence to preserve.

Or just the sound of his breathing. Because silence is a response, silence allows us to hear what is behind the noisy world. As a believer in the Trappist church that emphasized silence and asceticism, Thomas Merton was an expert in silence and a guardian of silence. He once wrote: "A person who loves God must also love silence." So it is obviously no coincidence that the place where God is worshiped is the place of silence. If idleness is the playground of the devil, then silence belongs to the angels. No wonder silence is an anagram of license. It is even more natural for Quakers to worship silence, because this is where everyone finds his own God. Silence is a universal state that transcends doctrines and levels of thought. If everyone has a spiritual story to tell, then everyone has a spiritual silence to keep.

So it is that we might almost say silence is the tribute we pay to holiness; we slip off words when we enter a sacred space, just as we slip off shoes. A "moment of silence" is the highest honor we can pay someone; it is the point at which the mind stops and something else takes over (words run out when feelings rush in). A "vow of silence" is for holy men the highest devotional act. We hold our breath , we hold our words; we suspend our chattering selves and let ourselves "fall silent," and fall into the highest place of all.

So, we can almost say that silence is our offering to the divine; When we enter a sacred space, we drop words like we take off our shoes. A "moment of silence" is the highest honor we can give someone; it's that moment when our mind shuts down and something else takes its place (which can lead to a loss of words when emotions come flooding in). "Swearing silence" is the highest act of devotion for a holy and pious person. We hold our breath, we remain silent, we pause our chattering side and allow ourselves to "quiet" and reach the highest state.

It often seems that the world is getting noisier these days: in Japan, which may be a model of our future, cars and buses have voices, doors and elevators speak. The answering machine talks to us, and for us, somewhere above the din of the TV; the Walkman preserves a public silence but ensures that we need never -- in the bathtub, on a mountaintop, even at our desks -- be without the clangor of the world. White noise becomes the aural equivalent of the clash of images, the nonstop blast of fragments that increasingly agitates our minds. As Ben Okri, the young Nigerian novelist, puts it, "When chaos is the god of an era, clamorous music is the deity's chief instrument. "

Today's world often seems increasingly noisy: in Japan, a country that may become a model for our future lives, cars and buses make sounds, and doors and elevators talk. The answering machine speaks to us; and we live above the noise of the television; although the Walkman maintains the quietness of public places, it ensures that we are in the bathtub, on the top of the mountain, or even at the desk. You can't leave the world without hearing the sonorous sound. White noise becomes the auditory equivalent of a clash of images, the sporadic roar that increasingly annoys our minds. As a young Nigerian novelist put it: “When chaos is the god of an age, the god’s chief tool is loud music.

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There is, of course, a place for noise, as there is for daily lives. There is a place for roaring, for the shouting exultation of a baseball game, for hymns and spoken prayers, for orchestras and cries of pleasure. Silence, like all the best things, is best appreciated in its absence: if noise is the signature tune of the world, silence is the music of the other world, the closest thing we know to the harmony of the spheres . But the greatest charm of noise is when it ceases. In silence, suddenly, it seems as if all the windows of the world are thrown open and everything is as clear as on a morning after rain. Silence, ideally, hums. It charges the air. In Tibet, where the silence has a tragic cause, it is still quickened by the fluttering of prayer flags, the tolling of temple bells, the roar of wind across the plains, the memory of chant.

Of course, as in everyday life, noise has its place, the roar of baseball games, the chants and prayers, the orchestral music and the joyous cries, and they all have their place, like the best of things. , when it is gone, it is the most cherished moment; if noise is the iconic melody of this world, then silence is the music of another world, the closest thing to the unity of the universe that we know. But the greatest charm of the noise is when it ends; the sudden silence, as if all the windows of the world are open, and everything is visible as clearly as the morning after the rain. Silence, the ideal buzzes, it charges the air. In Tibet, silence has its tragic origins, and now the prayer flags fluttering in the wind, the slow ringing of temple bells, the howling wind in the wilderness, and the fresh memory of the chants are all still accelerating its progress.

Silence, then, could be said to be the ultimate province of trust: it is the place where we trust ourselves to be alone; where we trust others to understand the things we do not say; where we trust a higher harmony to assert itself. We all know how treacherous are words, and how often we use them to paper over embarrassment, or emptiness, or fear of the larger spaces that silence brings. "Words, words, words" commit us to positions we do not really hold, the imperatives of chatter; words are what we use for lies, false promises and gossip. We babble with strangers; with intimates we can be silent. We "make conversation" when we are at a loss; we unmake it when we are alone, or with those so close to us that we can afford to be alone with them.

Silence is therefore the final realm of trust: where we can safely be alone; we believe Certain things are self-evident to others, and we have confidence in our ability to express ourselves in a higher level of harmony. We all know how unreliable words are, often used to cover up our embarrassment, or emptiness, or fear of the wider space that silence brings. “Words, words, words” keep us in an untenable position and in a pattern of gossip; words are what we use to frame lies, false promises, and gossip. We chatter endlessly with strangers; with close friends we can be respectful and silent. We can engage in small talk when we are overwhelmed; we can engage in silence when we are detached and alone, or when we are comfortable being in the same room with someone close to us.

In love, we are speechless; in awe, we say, words fail us.

Falling in love, we are speechless; in awe, we say, words fail us.

Words Awesome Group