I don’t often play golf alone, but I recently went out to play a few holes, hoping to hook up with someone. To my surprise, the golf course was empty (Well, it was Nov. 4!), so I ended up playing by myself. And I truly enjoyed the afternoon.
The empty course was very peaceful, very tranquil. I can’t say it was silent because I could hear the wind, the rustling of the dry leaves and an occasional bird, but it was very quiet. And I began to think about silence, both the word and the concept. Yeah, right, that’s a little odd, but, you know …
I decided there’s a difference between silence and tranquility, but the difference is very slight. I truly appreciate both silence and tranquility. I am not one of those who have to have noise in their lives to be happy. I don’t have to have the radio or TV making noise or have earbuds plugged into some personal music device to cut out the silence. Maybe because I’m old.
Paul Simon, the creative genius of Simon and Garfunkel, wrote in the lyrics of their popular hit “The Sound of Silence”: “Fools, said I, You do not know/Silence like a cancer grows/Hear my words that I might teach you/Take my arms that I might reach you”/But my words, like silent raindrops fell /And echoed/In the wells of silence.”
Wow! “Silence like a cancer grows”! That sounds pretty ominous, doesn’t it. Like silence is a bad thing. I don’t think it is; I like silence.
I haven’t always liked silence. It has taken me a lifetime to learn to value silence. Marilyn and I have been together for nearly 55 years, and we are able to sit silently next to each other for long periods of time, not saying anything to each other, and still feel content. Maybe it’s only the people who are truly comfortable with each other who can be together without speaking.
I remember reading a Sherlock Holmes mystery years ago in which Holmes tells his dear friend and associate John Watson that Watson had a great gift for silence and that that made him very valuable as a companion. I truly agree.
There’s a difference between communication and communion, isn’t there? Communication implies that there is sound (we usually communicate in words). But communion is about intimacy, a feeling of emotional or spiritual closeness, a relationship; we can commune without words. Silence is nice sometimes.
Like Paul Simon, we often make reference to the “sound” of silence. Is there such a thing? Does silence have a sound? What does it sound like? Or we hear people say things like, “The silence was deafening.”
I don’t know who said it, but I remember once reading a line like this: “When a heart breaks, it screams out in pain. You may not hear a plaintive cry, but the silence is deafening.” It’s interesting that the word silence means an absence of sound, and yet we refer to its “sound.”
Some people dislike silence and will go to great lengths to make sure that their environments are full of sound. When you’re out walking sometime, pay attention to the number of people who have phones or music players plugged into their heads — almost as if they are getting sound transfusions to maintain their aural contact with the world.
The French author Andre Maurois once said: “Men fear silence as they fear solitude, because both give them a glimpse of the terror of life’s nothingness.” That’s a pretty strong generalization, but he may be right; I think there are some people for whom noise helps them to break the solitude of a quiet, empty space.
Not me. As much as I like people, and I really do, I also value quiet times when I can just sit and think. I value the quiet times Marilyn and I spend together, quiet walks and bike rides.
I like the sound of silence!
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