It was one of the first things I noticed about the disparity between Odhners and Sonesons when John and I started dating. Sonesons jammed as many words as possible into the air space, often three people talking at once for good measure. Odhners were more thoughtful, not rushing a response before it had been turned over a multitude of times. It used to irk me back when we paid for long distance by the minute.
"Talk faster!" I thought. "This is an expensive silence!"
But I have come to be more appreciative of the quiet, noticing how comfortable it can be if you turn off the "no words means we are bored" reflex. Just being with someone who finds pleasure in watching, listening, and reflecting.
There is a book called Quiet that explores what is lost in a culture that epitomizes talking. It is a dynamic that can cause friction in marriage, at work, and in parent child relationships. The author also offered an insightful TED Talk, a venue which went against the grain of her introverted nature. Susan Cain is a marvelous wordsmith, and included references to a subject that is often taboo in Ted Talks... religion. Introspection is a crucial aspect of spirituality, and many of the most notable religious leaders were masters of it.
Understanding innate differences like introversion and extroversion helps jiggle us free of judgments. One person may feel content simply to be in the same room with their partner, while the other may think it is wasted time if there is no conversation. The other day I was blessed to hold a friend's baby. All of my senses were replete with the experience of rocking her, watching her, feeling her. Words had no place at the table.
Last Friday I stood with Ben waiting for the bus. He has no compunction about silence. I have learned, or at least started to learn, that being with him does not always require speaking to validate it. Instead I listened. It was windy, and I heard one gust beside me. Then another whooshed past on the other side. I have never noticed two distinct winds at the same time before, and I was rewarded with a third. They had different pitches and directions, and I felt wrapped in wonder.
Perhaps these variations are an invitation. Many of life's movements encompass a dance between inhaling and exhaling, contracting and releasing, opening and closing, silence and sound.
After all, I feel a connection to all of you each morning and you barely say a thing.
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