On Shutting the F@rk up… The Benefits of Silence

When I was a political candidate in 2007, a local newspaper dubbed me “the loudmouth New Yorker”. They probably thought it was insulting. I took it with pride!

And, the older I get, I become even more outspoken. Perhaps, that’s about no longer really caring about success and status — but very much caring about democratic discourse. Perhaps, it’s about no longer having too many professional or political constraints — and being very much a free agent of radical centrism.

Perhaps, it’s about claiming the opportunity that comes from inheriting a quirky mind from my parents, a commitment to critical thinking from my teachers, and a hugely diverse set of life experiences (that seem improbable to even me) from my Higher Power.

Perhaps, it’s about acting in line with my values — key ones of which are ‘contribution’ and ‘honesty’ — and calling out the spin, the bullshit and the deluge of digital deception.

It’s not limited to these pages, or politics, or social media either. I’ve become Mr Have-a- Chat in real life! Yes, that family member who embarrasses you by talking to anybody about anything — whether it’s in the queue at the kebab shop or walking George Costanza in the dog park.

So, it’s a little ironic to say this: I love and really need silence.

I mean: absolute silence. No talking to anyone for many days at a time. Whether that’s on a long, solo bushwalk through one of Australia’s amazing landscapes, or on religious retreat. Pre-COVID, these were very regular pursuits of mine; I would undertake some form of structured, longer-term silence about five times per year.

These include retreats of up to 10 days at a time at the Sunnataram Thai Forest Monastery (at Bundanoon overlooking Morton National Park) led by Prah Mana, a brilliant Buddhist monk and teacher, or with gentle, dignified and among last remaining Franciscan Anglican monks (at their bush hermitage at Stroud), or with the very practical and gum boot wearing Benedictine Catholic nuns (at their abbey at Jamberoo). At the abbey, I am often the only male other than their German Shepherd who comes to chapel!

As William Penn noted:

“True silence is the rest of the mind, and is to the spirit what sleep is to the body — nourishment and refreshment.”

But silence is golden not only for the good that it personally does me, but the good it helps me (I hope) bring to others.

Turning the incessant volume and volatility in my own head off (whether that’s through deep breathing, meditation, singing, chanting or prayer) lets me centre and connect not just with my ‘true’ or even idealised self, but with my fellow humans and with our Creator.

When I press pause, my energy better flows toward those I care about. Without the noise of the daily and digital distraction, I better consider their lives, their issues, their opportunities — and how I can better support them with my heart, my hands, or my head.

My ego gets smaller and more out of my way with each hour of silence. Self-compassion morphs into compassion for others.

It’s fascinating and true for me: clarity and calmness give rise to caring. Some call it grace.

Here’s a related passage from my nun friends, who tend their cows and start prayer every day at 4am:

“As you are reading these few words, somewhere here in Australia or in the world, a young person is sitting in a gutter feeling utterly alone and afraid, another has just discovered something wonderful that will change lives forever, others are caught in the midst of a raging war, a couple has just declared their love for another, a frightened soul is lying awake in the dark, a refugee is caught in despair, a new baby has just entered the world. All of these and more — flesh and blood people — have one thing in common… unseen, a Benedictine nun walks with them and prays for them.”

When I tell people that I do these retreats and literally keep my mouth shut for days at a time, I get two reactions in the main.

First, a bit of initial disbelief as it doesn’t seem to fit my personal MO nor our era of the hectic and harried. I do a great job passing for busy and bolshy!

Secondly, a comment along the lines of: “Oh, I could never do that. It would drive me crazy.”

If that’s what’s coming up for you as you read these words, try asking yourself and being really honest:

· Am I actually scared of being with myself?

· Am I actually scared of connecting with others?

· What is it I’m scared of and why?

I’ll say this and shut up. On the other side of that fear, through the portal of silence, is a you and a world that you will most probably like better.