When I was younger, I was deathly afraid of silence. Of course, I feel disingenuous saying "When I was younger", because I really mean "only up until recently"; and by "only up until recently", I really mean within the last couple of weeks. I never would have admitted it, of course; who's afraid of silence? Me?
But I would pour out words rather than deal with the silence. I would rather interrupt than risk a pause in the conversation. I would talk about myself rather than wait to listen to friends, just because I knew what was going on in my life, and what if my friends didn't feel comfortable opening up?
It's only in retrospect that I've realized how generally bad at conversation I can be. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I can be very on-point; sometimes, my wits are exactly the right level of sharp, my tone is the right level of wry or sarcastic, my insights are funny or thought-provoking. But this is, quite honestly, the exception rather than the rule. And even when I feel like a conversation has been a resounding success, 90% of the time I feel that way because I actually just missed the point.
It all goes back to the silence. It's easier to talk when there isn't silence, when you aren't willing to wait to hear what the other person has to say; when you're already contemplating what you'll say next, so the conversation won't miss a beat. That silence is wrought with tension, unease at wondering if you've said something you shouldn't, searching what was said, searching what wasn't, searching what shouldn't have been said.
But I'm only now starting to realize that sometimes, the only way to get a deeper connection is through being okay with the silence. And I don't just mean with other people; I mean with myself as well. Allowing the silence, and using it to explore my own thoughts. Thinking about how I feel about things, or mulling over what someone else has said as they search for words of their own.
I have no magical story of how allowing the silence has magically changed my life for the better. I can't even say necessarily that I'm recommending it; it's a very new sensation for me, and I'm still adjusting to it. In handling the silence recently, however, I've been catching myself more when I'm starting to veer too far in any direction; noticing when I've made a flub in far less time than it took before; and getting to understand other peoples' perspectives more thoroughly than before.
So these are just a few thoughts on silence, I guess. And as lackluster as this ending is, I feel like I'm okay with just accepting the words on the page.
But I would pour out words rather than deal with the silence. I would rather interrupt than risk a pause in the conversation. I would talk about myself rather than wait to listen to friends, just because I knew what was going on in my life, and what if my friends didn't feel comfortable opening up?
It's only in retrospect that I've realized how generally bad at conversation I can be. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I can be very on-point; sometimes, my wits are exactly the right level of sharp, my tone is the right level of wry or sarcastic, my insights are funny or thought-provoking. But this is, quite honestly, the exception rather than the rule. And even when I feel like a conversation has been a resounding success, 90% of the time I feel that way because I actually just missed the point.
It all goes back to the silence. It's easier to talk when there isn't silence, when you aren't willing to wait to hear what the other person has to say; when you're already contemplating what you'll say next, so the conversation won't miss a beat. That silence is wrought with tension, unease at wondering if you've said something you shouldn't, searching what was said, searching what wasn't, searching what shouldn't have been said.
But I'm only now starting to realize that sometimes, the only way to get a deeper connection is through being okay with the silence. And I don't just mean with other people; I mean with myself as well. Allowing the silence, and using it to explore my own thoughts. Thinking about how I feel about things, or mulling over what someone else has said as they search for words of their own.
I have no magical story of how allowing the silence has magically changed my life for the better. I can't even say necessarily that I'm recommending it; it's a very new sensation for me, and I'm still adjusting to it. In handling the silence recently, however, I've been catching myself more when I'm starting to veer too far in any direction; noticing when I've made a flub in far less time than it took before; and getting to understand other peoples' perspectives more thoroughly than before.
So these are just a few thoughts on silence, I guess. And as lackluster as this ending is, I feel like I'm okay with just accepting the words on the page.
