Silence, My Friend

Noise. It fills our ears, invades our brains, distracts our focus, blocks off all conduits to our interior selves. I recently met someone who was so addicted to noise that he filled all possible moments of quiet with incessant (and very loud) commentaries-pretending-to-be-conversations, and, when his audience grew weary of listening, stuck earphones into his skull and proceeded to blare music from a portable player. It seemed as if he was terrified of even a few seconds of silence. Another person I know – although he will probably never admit it – is constantly ensnared by the powerful, distractive force of television. He will miss appointments, be late for meetings, or even forsake commitments because he happens to be caught up with the goings-on on the small screen. He's scared of the quiet too.

Over the years, silence has become one of my most comforting friends. I didn’t always feel this way: I recall one particularly stressful time in my youth, when I abruptly turned in my resignation at an advertising firm I was employed at, and needed to explain my sudden decision to the president. While waiting for the appointed time to meet him, I found that I could drown my anxiety by listening to loud music on my Walkman (goes to show how long ago this was). I suppose that’s how noise works, for some people – it calls away attention, it helps one escape, it numbs and deadens pain that may be either present or potential. I admit that, until a few weeks ago, I used to fall asleep to the noise of the TV, and to wake up in the morning to it. I used to write my articles, and even study in front of the TV or with the radio on – during the Bar review, especially during the late night/early morning hours, I always had the radio on as company. Apparently many of us cannot live without some amount of noise in the background; most of us find it comforting. Which is not surprising.

For, in silence, we can listen to and get acquainted with our real selves; more importantly, we open ourselves to the possibility of hearing the One who tirelessly keeps speaking to us, every minute, every second. And many of the things that need to be heard are disturbing indeed.

In these recent years, I have learned to befriend silence, and, as I’ve said, have found it to be a true and intimate ally. Noise will only temporarily ease whatever difficulty needs to be faced; silence, like a loyal friend, will not help you run away but instead make you stand up to what should be confronted, and enable you to deal with it head-on. And smile as you emerge from it a better person.

For the most part, my last two weeks in BC were wrought with silence – or at least, the opportunity to be selective with my “noise.” I am slightly pleased that my “noisy” moments were few and far between, and that I had preferred to “listen” through the silence instead, but this retreat was intended to be a listening exercise after all. The house and the neighborhood were ideal for quiet; and, most of the time, I was loath to disturb the stillness by turning on the CD player or putting on a DVD.

But back here in the other BC I’ve known almost all my life – Barangay Culiat – cable TV and radio are ubiquitous diversions, and I’ve found myself very quickly slipping back into the surroundings of noise. The ability to withdraw into the “inner island,” even in the midst of the metropolitan pandemonium, can only be considered an extarordinary grace…I find myself preferring the natural serenity of the mountains. Perhaps I am really meant to be in BC – Baguio City, and, according to a desire that’s been gently growing in my heart – Back to the Cordilleras, from where my ancestors hail, and that I need to live, and listen in, the silence of it all.