“We do not know each other yet, we have not dared to be silent together.” What a priceless possession is the gift of speech! To be able to make sounds convey specific meanings and deliberate notions, to be able to put at the disposal of another the feelings that nestle within the inner life, to be able to reveal one’s self in symbols which make clear and do not betray—this is the miracle and the gift of the spoken word.
It is a small wonder that people tend to worship the sound of their voice and to give to it an authority greater than anything that remains when all words have been said. Silence is not trusted; it is subversive; it must be hidden. Fear of silence is the offering which we place upon the altar of words. This is in part due to the richness of the experience of speech, and we do not wish to let it escape from us lest we descend once again into the vast region where there are no words, where there is no speech.
It is important to remember that it is out of silence that all sounds come; it is in the stillness that the word is fashioned for the meaning it conveys. Here the sound without sounds can be most clearly heard and meanings out of which all values come can be plumbed. We cannot conceive what sort of person is she or he who has never been silent. We do not know each other yet...we have not yet dared to be silent together.
An Excerpt from The Inward Journey, pgs. (52-53)
How do you relate to the notion that silence is not merely an absence but the very ground from which words are "fashioned for the meaning they convey" - and what does it stir in you to consider that our fear of silence might be a kind of offering we make to keep ourselves from descending into that vast, wordless region within? Can you share a personal story of a moment when silence with another person - or even within yourself - opened something that no amount of speech could have reached? What helps you dare to be silent, whether alone or in the presence of someone you love, long enough to begin to truly know them?