The Sin of Obedience
Step Two: The Powerful Anarchy of Silence
The first step in breaking a person’s will is to eliminate silence. To destroy silence is to destroy the human connection to all that is and all that can be. It is a most insidious and effective form of brainwashing (not to mention torture).
Once upon a time, I lived in a quiet, peaceful world of dreams. I would spend hours by myself, staring into space, perhaps throwing a tennis ball into the air while I contemplated nothing. My connection to this noisy world was peripheral at best.
At the time, I considered my behavior to be a sign of mental and social dysfunction. After all, the goal of a teenager is to be part of the crowd. My peers appeared to be utterly fascinated by the idea of fitting in, while I simply wished to be left alone until I decided it was time to interact. My relative lack of social skills pretty much guaranteed that I wasn’t going to have to fight really hard for the right to my privacy.
It’s not that I disliked people. People were fine-fantastic, at times. In fact, I often found them fascinating (in an Alien-Visiting-the-Deep-South sort of way). But I didn’t belong to them. I didn’t understand the rules of interaction.
I laughed too loudly when I laughed, enjoyed the wrong television shows, sang songs more suited to my parents than my peers.
If I’d had any sense at all, I’d have left it there and spent my early adulthood as a self-contained misanthrope. But alas, I figured out how to “pass” as a normal human being.
I put away the tennis ball and the empty stares and learned how to become interested in people. I learned to ask the questions they wanted to hear and to at least pay lip service to the things that mattered to the majority of society.
I admit my Alien Translators still glitch on me from time to time. Frequently enough, I’d say something perfectly reasonable (to me) only to find myself surrounded by blank, confused expressions. Depending on my mood, I either try to explain or shrug it off as something funny.
But for the most part, I learned to play the game. And with that concession to so-called society, I also found myself saying goodbye to more and more of my alone time. Forty hours at work. An hour or so of socialization per day. Visiting with family and friends. A wife. A home of my own.
In the slow march of decades, I barely noticed the silence eroding. No one does, of course. It’s considered normal to be surrounded at all times with noise. Family, friends, colleagues, of course. But even the times when we are alone are filled with ubiquitous electronic reminders that Thou Shalt Not Be Quiet.
Quiet is dangerous, because quiet leads to understanding. Meditation, contemplation—even throwing a tennis ball into the air—pulls you out of the mindless consumption and distraction of modern life. It allows you back into your own skin, even deeper into your own cells, possibly for the first time in years.
When a person is mentally, physically, and spiritually quiet, it’s easy to forget about the grudges she bears against her neighbor. When that quiet lasts, fears loosen their grip and problems become more manageable.
So why are humans so addicted to noise? Why is the quiet so mistrusted?
I discovered with the loss of silence, I lost a great deal more than private time. I lost a sense of my own authority. By focusing so much on what was outside of me—even things that were pleasant, educational, and entertaining—I relinquished a part of my own internal reality.
In a culture that lionizes extroversion, I managed to fake it quite well. I can be loquacious, amusing, and even enjoy the company of others. But the effort drains me.
By choosing once again to embrace silence, I am committing an act of defiance against a culture that values external stimuli over internal forces. By choosing to reclaim my abandoned introversion, I draw a line in the sand against external authority.
I’m such a rebel.
