Some Ways to Develop the Practice of Silence

“Sound of Silence,” the song by Simon and Garfunkel, was released in September 1965.  I was old enough to be intrigued by the title of the song.  I remember thinking, “Well, how can silence have a sound.  I mean, it’s silence, after all.”  It was my first invitation to consider that silence is much more than the absence of noise.

In his book, Holy Silence, Brent Bill says that “true silence is the rest of the mind, and is to the spirit, what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment” (30).  These words suggest that silence is even more than a spiritual practice; it is essential to our spiritual health. 

This is perspective is different than thinking of silence as a break, reducing it to something we do so we can recharge and get back to the real stuff of life.  But what if silence is an essential part of the real stuff?  What if it is a necessary and legitimate part of living? 

What would it be like to build silence into our schedules, the same way we build other activities and appointments and tasks into our schedules?

What if silence is calling us to a part of ourselves that gets lost in the busyness of life?  Maybe we like noise because it indicates actions.  Work is being done. Something is being accomplished.  The noise of doing can contribute to our own sense of self.  We are doing something.  We are building something.

This emphasis on doing and accomplishing is so much with us that often we do not see it.  Take eating, for example.  Eating is something we do to nourish our bodies so we can get on to the next task.  But what if, instead of saying we are eating, we speak of being fed?  What if receiving is just as much a part of growing and living as doing?

We all have different experiences with silence.  You can welcome silence, or you can see it as a threat and avoid it.  You may crave silence, but don’t see any place in your life to experience it.  If you live alone, it is easier to make silence happen than when we live with others.  If we are working or have a full schedule, it is harder to move into silence. 

Here are some practical ways to make space for silence and welcome it into your life.

Look for opportunities for silence that already exists.

Part of my work as a counselor is teaching people mindfulness practices as a way to develop a different relationship with the thoughts and feelings of anxiety, depression, or stress.  Often, these clients respond by saying, “Great, now I have to find time for this, for one more thing in my busy life.”  I respond to them by saying, “Anything you do during the course of a normal day, you can do mindfully.”

The same thing is true of silence.  You can weave moments of silence into the rhythm of your day.  Right now, take a moment to go through, as specifically as you can, the actions of a normal day.  When you wake up, do you look at your phone?  Do you turn on the TV or turn on some music?  What would it be like to practice silence in those moments?

Does the sound of the TV and the music continue as you prepare and eat your breakfast or get dressed for the day?  You get in your car and drive to work.  Do you put on music or turn on the talk radio station?  As you walk from your car into work, do the ear buds let you listen to a podcast or a book?  Ah, more opportunities to experience silence.

You go through the day.  If you are at work, there are appointments with clients, meetings to attend, or tasks to accomplish.  If you are not at work, you have items on your to-do list.  What would it be like to pause for a moment of silence between the end of one task and the beginning of the next one? 

As you move through the day, look for places where you might be quiet.  It is not about finding a place that is absent of sound.  It is about looking for moments where you can welcome the silence.  Looking for space—external space or internal space—where you can enter into a stillness that will put you in touch with your deep self or something beyond yourself.

Set aside times and places to enter into silence.

Even with all these moments during the day, it can be good to have a time and a place that is reserved for silence.  This time and place are sacred, in the sense that they are set aside for moments of silence and nothing else.

These places do not have to be large; a small space in the corner of a room will do.  They do not have to be elaborate…perhaps a simple altar and a comfortable chair.  In fact, it could be a place that you pass by all the time.  Many years ago, the first house I bought in Waco, Texas, had a small living area.  On one end of the room was a couch and TV.  At the other end was a recliner, next to the stereo.

Gradually, over time that recliner because my sacred space. The only time I sat in it would be to reflect, to journal, to read, to meditate…in silence.  Even though I walked by it all the time, I could feel something changing within me as I walked slowly and deliberately to the recliner and sat down. It was very comfortable. 

But it became very worn.  I remember the sadness I felt when it had to be thrown away.  I bought another recliner and put it in the same spot, but it did not feel like my sacred space anymore.  My connection to the old recliner in that place was so much a part of me, I moved on to someplace else.

Once you have a place, figure out a time during the day that works best for moments of intentional silence.  It might be in the morning before the rest of your household gets up or after they have left for the day.  It could be a scheduled break during work or the rhythm of your day.

 Finally, decide on a length of time for silence that works for you.  Even a period as short as five minutes will give you a chance to experience the power of silence.  You will become aware of the rhythm of your breathing.  You will become aware of the sensations in your body.  You will become aware of all the thoughts and feelings inside of you.  All of these are there all of the time; we just don’t sense them in the busyness of our lives.  But the silence makes us aware.  Don’t evaluate.  Don’t avoid.  Don’t judge.  Just be with them.  They are you in this moment.

For several years, I took the train to see my parents in San Antonio from Oklahoma City.  It is an all-day ride. I remember thinking how much more relaxing it was than flying.  It lends itself more easily to silence. 

But I didn’t want the location to determine my ability to experience silence.  So, when I started flying to see them, I looked for silence on my journey.  I realized that the airport is a very noisy place.  Ok, not a startling discovery!  But I was very aware of the noise out there and the silence I was creating and inhabiting within.  I could feel the interplay of the two.  It gave life to both of them. The silence was special as I let go of the noise out there (not fighting or resisting it).  The noise was special, as I gave meaning to each sound that I heard. The laughter or crying of children. The friendliness of staff (or in some cases its absence).

What are some of the ways you practice silence in your life?  Do you have places and times that you enter to experience silence?  How is silence a blessing in your life?  How is it a struggle?

In his book, No Man Is an Island, Thomas Merton said: “Music is pleasing not only because of the sound but because of the silence that is in it: without the alternation of sound and silence there would be no rhythm.”  Could it be that without the alternation of sound and silence, our lives have no rhythm, no movement, no meaning?