About The Quiet Man

Post 1899:

Oh, how one wants sometimes to go from such giftlessly high-flown, cheerless human wordiness into the seeming silence of nature, into the arduous soundlessness of long, persistent labor, into the wordlessness of deep sleep, of true music, and of a quiet, heartfelt touch grown mute from fullness of soul.

This is one of the thousand beautiful passages in the novel Dr. Zhivago. I love how he expresses the need to escape the clamor of voices and rattle of worldly sounds we deal with so regularly in our lives.

Alone time is good. Alone time in nature is really good. There’s something about it that feels like home. Ironic, because home is where your TV and computer and cell phone are at your fingertips, ready to light up, make noise, and tempt you from soundlessness.

Quiet isn’t necessarily great all the time, but it’s certainly becoming undervalued. Most kids have to be listening or watching something every moment of the day. We have our favorite music and podcasts and shows at our fingertips just about any time we want. It’s convenient, but for me at least, it’s a struggle. The truest stuff in life often comes when it’s just you and the world, you and God, or you and yourself. There’s a sense sometimes I get, that silence teaches us more than anything. We have all the noise we want these days—I don’t see a dramatic rise in the profundity of people or the intelligence of the general population.

This isn’t a call to monasticism. It’s a reminder that silence is the way of the universe. Yeah, I’m talking space, man. It’s most of what exists—billions and billions of light years of totally unadulterated silence. So like, be one with existence, bro.

Here’s a rule I try to follow. If I get to where it’s boring just being myself, I need to take a hard look. Maybe I’ve slipped, gotten so used to the noise that it’s the air that I breathe. That’s no good. I’d rather go to space. Great for silence and breathing. Nailed it. Cheers and see you after.