The Sweetness of Silence

A brief reflection on interior peace in a world of noise

“All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

- Blaise Pascal

Mirror (1975), Andrei Tarkovsky.

Recently, I attended a retreat over the weekend, anticipating time devoted to prayer, rest and listening to spiritual talks by a Catholic priest.

To my surprise, I learned on the first night that it would be a silent retreat—no talking during meals, saying hello down the halls or anything besides mass and brief spiritual direction.

As a chronic overthinker (thanks ADHD), I worried how I would deal with confronting my thoughts and anxieties—even inside a beautiful chapel. Instead, I developed a great sense of peace and reverence for silence.

---

A Monk Walking Through a Monastery Near Florence, Erich Correns (1874).

Part of my fear of silence came from being used to noise at all times. Whether it’s living in the city, working in offices and places that dehumanize us and keep us distracted and overwhelmed, noise is the norm in modern life. Not even nights are spared.

I sense that noise is too available, and despite an inner desire for tranquility, I seek noise like a drug that slowly eats you away.

Sometimes the noise is but caused by ourselves. How many times have we polluted the air with nonsensical words, gossip, and phrases that don’t build up to anything besides escaping from the discomfort of sitting with our hollow, distracted souls?

We wear earbuds and headphones to tune out the world’s noise, only to immerse ourselves in it deeper. Not that there isn’t a time or place to talk, to listen and appreciate sound, but we’ve idolized noise at the expense of a vital, indispensable silence.

I grew up seeing silence as boring and unpleasant. I thought being quiet meant the absence of noise, but it is so much more—it is a way to sit with our thoughts, feelings, reflections and encounter God.

Beautiful things happen in silence. We can often read, write and focus best in silence. Just how two parents silently yet lovingly gaze at their child in order to not wake them up, so does God sees us in a silence we don’t think He is present in. Our blood flows through our body without making noise. We can only hear our heartbeat in silence. Silence is not just being mute or looking inward selfishly, but a means in which we can practice presence to God, our loved ones and ourselves.

God is the friend of silence. See how nature—trees, flowers, grass—grows in silence; see the starts, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence”

- St. Teresa of Calcutta

Perfect Days (2023), Wim Wenders.

How do we find this silence amidst our packed schedules and exhausting routines? After all, the great mystics point out that there can be no interior silence without exterior silence.

Making silence a practice is simple but not easy. It could look like planning ahead and attending a weekend retreat, but it’s not the only way. It requires self-denial and prioritizing our desire for peace and reflection instead of stimulation.

Perhaps this can look like keeping the radio off on the commute to work, a walk in the park or a quick stroll around your neighborhood without headphones or even your phone. Recently I’ve started taking 10 minutes before bed to pray and reflect on my day, which has done wonders for my sleep and overall wellbeing when I’ve needed it the most.

I don’t pretend to be a monk or mystic after one unexpected silent retreat. I do however, want to keep practice observing silence and understand that it has to be an intentional—at times sacrificial choice. After a brief taste of the serenity it provides, I can’t help but to share it with you all and invite you to into it as well.

Best,

Santi

*Note: This brief reflection is inspired and guided by reading through portions of Cardinal Sarah’s The Power of Silence. Such a nourishing read that I could recommend to people of all walks of life.