I remember the first time I noticed how uncomfortable I could be with silence.

I was on a first date with a guy I really liked. Naturally, I was nervous. At some point, I suddenly became aware that I was talking non-stop. I even pointed it out to him.

And then carried on talking. 🙂

Looking back, what strikes me isn’t so much that I was talking a lot, but that I couldn’t seem to stop, even after noticing it.

Something about the situation made me uncomfortable, and filling the space with words seemed to happen almost automatically.

It was a small moment, but one that stayed with me. It was one of the first times I began noticing the relationship between discomfort and my impulse to fill the space.

From fearing silence to discovering it

A few years later, I heard about Vipassana meditation for the first time.

The idea of spending several days in silence, meditating for much of the day while being surrounded by other people, terrified me.

I couldn’t even explain why. I just knew I didn’t want to do it.

Eventually, I felt brave enough to try a weekend silent retreat with a friend. And to my surprise, it wasn’t difficult at all.

There were some practical things we had to get used to, like not being able to simply turn to each other and say something.

But other than that, the silence was actually quite pleasant.

It was spacious.

When silence doesn’t give us what we want

About ten years ago, during a particularly challenging time in my life, I went on my first seven-day silent retreat.

This time, I arrived with a very busy mind, a lot of heartache, and a very specific goal.

I wanted to figure something out.

The conditions were beautiful. The food was delicious and nourishing. The talks by the retreat leader were inspiring and moving.

And still, most of the time, I wasn’t comfortable.

I wanted an answer to the internal dilemma I was going through, and I wanted it badly. I already had many tools available to me for working with myself, but I was struggling.

Then, after four or five days, during one of the few guided meditations we had, something shifted.

I experienced something deep and profound that is difficult to put into words.

When I came out of that meditation, a sense of peace and calm washed over me, along with an understanding that seemed to have arrived from somewhere much deeper than my thinking mind.

I hadn’t solved the problem by thinking harder about it. Something had simply become clear.

That experience stayed with me.

Making space for what is already there

I’m still exploring my relationship with silence. In different circumstances, at different moments in my life, it continues to show me different things.

Sometimes, even a short experience of silence can reveal a lot about what is happening inside us.

Sometimes it shows me just how busy my mind is.

Sometimes it brings an insight or a perspective that wasn’t available to me before.

And sometimes it doesn’t reveal anything at all.

Sometimes it simply lets me rest.

What I have discovered is that when I stop trying to escape the silence, there is often a sense of calm and expansion that is difficult to find anywhere else.

Perhaps because there is nothing I need to produce.
Nothing I need to explain.
Nothing I need to fill.
Just space.

Maybe that is part of what makes silence such a powerful practice.

Not because something profound has to happen every time we enter it, but because we get to experience what is there when we stop adding more.

We don’t always need to come away with an insight or an answer.

Sometimes, allowing ourselves to be with what is there, without immediately trying to change it, is enough.

An invitation to explore silence

I’ve been thinking about all this as I prepare for Becoming Through Relationship, my upcoming retreat at Osa Major in Mallorca, where we’ll spend 24 hours in silence.

If you’d like to explore this practice with us, you can find more details about the retreat here.
Explore the retreat

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