The Power of SilenceThe Riches That Lie WithinUpdated at Aug 31, 2024, 01:23
Preface
This book is an account of a journey through the world of those who
value silence, and I began it expecting I knew not what. Certainly
not the richness and variety which I was led to discover. I say ‘led’
because that world inexorably drew me in, as if the process had a will
of its own quite apart from my own wishes.
Tapping rather uncertainly on all kinds of doors, trying to find my
bearings, to grope my way towards some understanding of what, in
truth, seemed like a rather nebulous subject, I constantly found new
worlds, new perspectives opening up before me.
It was the first time in a long experience of writing that I had
had the feeling of a subject taking me over, having its way with
me.
At the beginning, I never suspected just how rich, important and
fulfilling silence can be, how universal its usefulness. In places which
most of us initially associate with noise – the concert hall and the
theatre – I found musicians and actors only too ready to talk about
its value.
In India, which bids fair to be the world’s noisiest country, I found
a civilisation which still, amidst all the racket, reveres silence as the
very heart of spiritual life.
In America, I found a university which is based on the practise of
meditation.
In the Lebanon, I found a group of people who trust to what they find in meditative silence to try to give their fragile country the help
it so often needs.
What a marvellous, if often gruelling, adventure writing this book
turned out to be! It gave me a chance to look at life through the eyes
of hermits in the Egyptian desert; to meet an American Zen master
in Paris, of all places; to explore the ways in which psychotherapists
use silence to try to ease the agonies of the human psyche; and to hear
a self-confessed murderer in a Scottish prison speak of what he has
found through silent meditation.
Encounter after encounter revealed the priceless gifts which
silence yields to an extraordinary array of people. It left me feeling
that it is the most under-used and under-valued of all our personal
resources. You only have to see the quality of the lives of those who
devote themselves to it to realise its immense potential.
It is difficult to acknowledge, by name, all the people who so
generously gave their time to talk to me about what silence means to
them. Suffice it to say that I am grateful to every one of them.
I am, though, particularly grateful to the Anglican Bishop of
London, the Rt Rev Richard Chartres, without whose aid I would
not have been so warmly welcomed in the desert monasteries of
Egypt; to Michael Billington, theatre critic of the Guardian, who
gave his time unstintingly and introduced me to Penelope Wilton;
to Richard Johnson, who arranged my journeys around the world of
TM; and to my friend Peter Riddell who – with the aid of modern
technology which I lack – managed a steady stream of email traffic,
turned up useful facts and arranged all my journeys with seemingly
inexhaustible patience.
And, finally, to my wife Jean, whose encouragement and editorial
skills were much in demand and to whom this book owes a great deal. Silence? No thanks!
For many people in the West, the very idea of silence is strange and
unattractive, if not actually forbidding. You only have to think of the
way we commonly describe it to realise that it is not something most
of us look forward to. We talk about an uncomfortable silence, an
awkward silence, an embarrassing silence, an oppressive silence, a
stony silence, an ominous silence, a silence you can cut with a knife,
a deathly silence.
That doesn’t include all those people who regard the absence
of talk and noise and the activity which usually goes with
them as downright boring, a waste of precious time when you
might be doing something interesting or listening to something
entertaining.
‘Our culture in the United States’, said an office manager in
Albuquerque, New Mexico, ‘is extremely good at bombarding us with
words and images, so silence has become counter-cultural in this
country. The children I know don’t even have a concept of silence any
longer, except as a notion of emptiness, a scary void. They no longer
know how to be quiet and I’m afraid that’s true for Americans as a
whole’. Silence doesn’t have much of a take in this country’, agreed one
of her friends. ‘It’s thought of as something appropriate to a time
of sorrow and people would say “I don’t want to sign up for sorrow
today’.’ ’
As for giving time to silent contemplation, that – apart from
anything else – might cost money. ‘This is a very dynamic, gregarious
society’, said a neuroscientist in Iowa who practises Transcendental
Meditation. ‘It wants to build and create, so you shouldn’t sit there
with your eyes closed, but get the bricks and mortar out! If you
happen to be a lawyer and you close your eyes for a couple of
minutes,