The Praxis of Silence

 I have now entered an extended period of silence and solitude. During this set-aside time, I am reading, writing and undertaking praxis. Praxis, is a cycle of enacting, reflecting on, and refining practice.

In these first few weeks of study leave my practice of silence has largely been centred around an extended period of time as part of the Morning Office; or seeking retreat in the study; and of reading and writing.

This extended period of solitude and silence is about continuing some of that, but it will also involve taking stock; of refining practice; of seeking to widen my experience of and entry into silence.

It seems that there is much discussion in what I have read thus far about the interplay between inner silence (stilling my inner world and techniques to aid that), outer silence (the noise of 21st cetury living), and solitude (aloneness as opposed to loneliness). I am not sure that I am clear on really what it is I am looking for myself of all of those three - I suspect that it is different each day.

In daily living, I have found it reasonably easy to build a routine of intentional silence. Holding 10 minutes or more as part of the daily office for example. Retreating to and in my study. Being in community or part of a family requires us to contribute the invaluable 'noise' of conversation, of domestic chores, of music, worship, of just moving around shared space. Locating silence in those contexts is tricky and needs to be intentionally planned or snatched. As Erling Kagge reminds us:

What I have noticed, three days into solitude is how different my experience and practice of silence is. I am noticing a development; an experimenting; a refining.

I am spending, or at least attempting to spend the day in silence. I am referring here to the noise I make. In fact, it is even more defined than that, I am trying to refrain from talking. Being totally silent is an act of will and is very difficult. Even as I type I am making noise or by sipping my freshly brewed coffee I am making noise. Silence in the monastery is about reduced movement and a lack of speech. I can recall taking part in a sponsored silence at primary school and how hard it was for small children to sit still and refrain from intentional noise making. It is not possible in an urban landscape to do away with the noise of the world around me. That said, as I seek to be silent I notice more the presence of others and of the noise I make. This isn't a criticism or grumble. It's an observation.

Perhaps put more effectively, I am noticing more as I seek to be silent.

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I went for a walk yesterday and I decided to experiment with silence in another way. I have of course been on beautiful silent walks around where we live before, but here, as part of my praxis, I wanted to try something else.

Many writers speak of the similarities between activity and the practice of silence. The intense concentration for a fixed period of time and the practice of silence by a nun or hermit do have similarities. I wanted to see how it was to experience silence in a similar way.

I went for a very cold walk. As I set out I asked God to show me what I needed to see and to hear what I needed to hear. In so many ways it was an unremarkable hour - I was silent, it was cold, I passed others walking or running, all of us largely passing each other silently.

On the return leg, I began to notice.

I saw a dog playing with a ball thrown by their owner. There was such joy as the dog, poised, waited to run after the ball & to bring it back with wagging tail. It was an image of a deep trusting and loving relationship. In the silence God said, this is how I long for it to be between me and all people - a loving, trusting, playful relationship. It was such a poignant moment. A beautiful realisation.

I saw a man with a metal detector searching for 'buried treasure.' In the silence, I heard God say - there's a parable of the kingdom! If the detector finds something of interest or value how happy will that person be?

I saw a toddler collecting stones, carefully gazing at their wellie boots and the gems at their feet. It was only as they looked up that they saw their gran - their greeting was us such love and joy. Again, a parable of the kingdom.

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I've talked about the intentionality of silence before. It is something I need to choose or to seek. What I discovered on that walk and have done in these early days of solitude is that I can chose to enter that silence as much on a walk as part of saying the Office.

In this time of chosen solitude, silence is a grace I chose to receive; a free gift.

Towards the end of her book, 'How To Be Alone', Sara Maitland touches on the benefits of solitude, of aloneness. The earlier chapters have documented society's historically negative attitude to being alone and then various means to redressing the balance. Concluding the work, she mentions the 'bliss' of solitude which she identifies as

1. A deeper consciousness of self
2. A deeper attunement to nature
3. A deeper relationship with the divine or transcendent
4. Increased creativity
5. An increased sense of freedom (from dislikes, and towards forming a sense of what life can become.)

I am noticing that silence is the grace that brings all of those benefits to life and allows them to do their work.