If noise is confusion, what is silence?
I have never enjoyed the silence. All my life has been about noise, voices, anything to keep me distracted, alert, alive, and protected. I have built walls of guitars to help me go through life, and talked for ages to conjure demons. I wrote with music on, talked a lot, too afraid of the space my silence would take. I hated silence. Silence was void.
The void is my biggest fear. The emptiness of things.
I guess the reason I love social media so much (Twitter in particular) is the sensation of a never ending conversation going on, virtual noise all around me, on my laptop, on my phone, day and night, just like when I was a kid, falling asleep with the TV or the radio on, so I’d feel more safe. Again, the idea of silence being empty and permanent frightens me. Is it because of that good old fear of Death we feel sometimes? Or worse, the fear I’d never connect with anyone? Or because I tend to confuse silence with anger? I don’t know yet.
I have never valued the idea of silence as a gift. But I am more and more attracted to the peace and quiet, especially when I write. So I am up for a little experiment. A complete hour of silence, just my own self and I. No distraction, no outside world. Every day for a week. Just to see how it goes, and if it improves my imagination, my writing…And my brain.
I will let you know.