Silence

While Oxford Languages defines silence as “the absence of sound,” that’s not fully achievable without a sense deprivation chamber, and we can only try our best with noise canceling headphones and isolating ourselves. But, maybe silence isn’t just “the absence of sound.” Maybe silence is a mindset, a feeling, an emotion, and an action. To me, silence is both a comfort and a fear. Silence, while meaning “nothing,” may just mean everything. Here’s a few examples of what I mean:

When my parents are out of town overnight, I become excited at my new freedom and control. Nobody is clanking pans in the kitchen or watching football in the living room: everything is still and under my control–until it isn’t anymore. The silence extends, until it’s drowned out by my suspicious thoughts and fear creeps up on my peaceful state. The house becomes too quiet like the world is standing still for a moment but my mind sprinting a marathon. The slightest breeze of air to make a door creak makes me want to hide in my bedroom with a baseball bat. While silence can make me feel powerful when I’m alone, it can also make me feel belittled and lonely. “I like being home alone. It’s tranquil like a battlefield before a war—you’re just sitting there and waiting. It’s comfortable,” Kyle Castner, 12, said.

You know when you’re driving or talking with somebody and the conversation dwindles down until it comes to a stop? As an introvert, this is one of my favorite things. The silence between the two of us doesn’t seem like a valley to me, rather it connects me to the other person. A shared silence is one of the most intimate connections of all–except when it’s clear the other person is an extrovert and the silence becomes deafening. Somehow, your mind starts racing with a million questions like, what do I say? Do they feel awkward too? When are they going to say something? That’s what makes comfortable silence so important: how are you ever going to spend your life with somebody without becoming anxious when conversations come to a halt? While the shared silence can form connections, it can also isolate us.

Silence can either force me to lock-in, or it can push my thoughts to take over. When I sit down and study without music, sometimes I lose track of time while grinding out an assignment. Sure my typing and writing are making small noises, but because they happen from my working, they blur out into nothing. But other times, every little noise in the background is amplified, and I need a steady noise–like music–to allow my mind to stay constant on track. 

“I listen to very loud, piercing music,” Kyle added, “I can’t hear myself think. I’m just working.  I turn into a machine.”

Or while I’m playing sports, there is obviously no silence: my team communicates, shoes squeak on the gym floor, and volleyballs pound on the floor. But these sounds are within the sports, and there aren’t outside factors, building the effect of silence. This “silence” allows me to focus on the sport, zone into the squeaking shoes, be where my feet are. However, the silence before a serve or when a ball drops can change the whole mood of the game, plummeting the team’s energy. Music can help liven up the sport and fill that void that isolates the team into individual players (that is until we all start dancing and lose focus on occasion). While “silence” can focus us, it can also make us distract ourselves.

From what I’ve experienced, silence has a balance. Too much time in silence can invite fear and a haunting feeling, and it can bring about anxiety and overstimulation.  But, silence can also be intimate and help form connections and safe mindsets in moderation. There isn’t just one definition to silence in the real world—it’s not just “the absence of sound.” It can be loud.