Baring the Bones of Silence

There is silence and there is silence.

The silence of suppression, of secrets, of stealth, of connivance, of intimidation.

Of apathy, indifference, and schadenfreude.

Of incurable trauma at eyeing wanton carnage and wholesale destruction when the guns cease-fire.

Of stifled pain and unhinged minds which most of us do not give a second’s thought to and cringe from if we do.

Of a headache in the heart.

Of ravine loneliness that makes the heart a wilderness.

Of death.

Our shirking of responsibility when we do not take a stand against any form of injustice and cruelty makes our silence acceptance; which makes more than a statement about the desensitized life so many of us are living. For although idolizing self-interest has been around a good while, it is now that we are living in separate bubbles based on cell phones, text messages, emails and social media which ironically are dumbing down authentic reaching out to each other and adumbrating that life beyond ourselves bears little scrutiny since what matters is gratifying our material needs.

No doubt these are the sounds of a nefarious silence as insidious as the proverbial slithering snake in the grass. Consequently, silence is not always golden. Yet given the duality of nature and our being, there are also many uplifting silences.

Of resonating togetherness.

Of a loving look that needs no utterance.

Of a wordless caress.

Of early morning stillness heralding a new day.

Of the strangely quiet, pregnant air that lingers when birds stop singing. or bells stop ringing, or a song comes to end.

Of night’s starry embrace bidding adieu to the day, hushing us to sleep.

Of the afterglow segueing making love.

It doesn’t take much thinking to realise that the damning sounds of silence last much longer than the silences that bless.

Unless we seek the soul-balming serenity born out of interiorized stillness which I so firmly believe we need to re-discover, possibly discover in a world long binging on incessant cacophony, particularly for urbanites, though today’s tentacular wired world encroaches upon many a remote expanse. Distancing ourselves from the rhythms of nature is taking its toll.

Admittedly it’s convenient to blame the hectic pace of our lives and our increasing dependence on technology that is generating a cyber civilization. (Time, if ever, will tell how actually civilized it will turn out to be).

What is not convenient is to point blame fairly at ourselves because many of us are terrified of the kind of silence that compels us to look inwards and are too scared to admit it. It takes courage to confront our naked selves because truth hurts. And being honest with ourselves does not come easy for we often fear our inner thoughts, hate admitting mistakes and shy away from the need to change. The odds are also against us because we live in a world where dissecting honesty is often equated with being a loser.  (I tackle other aspects of the need to appraise ourselves in another article entitled ‘Not just the elephant in the room’).

As understandable as this fear is, recoiling from self-reflection festers self-denial and inhibits self-growth and recreation of self. Call me facetious, but I prefer recreation to reinvention because there is something spiritual about the notion of creation as against the man-made inference of invention, though the power of imagination spurring invention has more than a touch of the divine.

I will be stating the obvious (and there’s an avalanche of this) if I had to delve about how gazing at lapping or pounding waves or an amble in nature helps to flush away the cobwebs and rejuvenates the spirit because proximity with the elemental leads to meeting our elemental selves. Hence, the power of contemplation and tranquility that soothes the body, mind, and soul. But there are enough rhapsodies about this.

What I would like to spotlight is how interiorised silence – better known as tranquility – takes a singular violence to attain. At first, this sounds totally contradictory because tranquility immediately associates with calm, quiet and stillness. And rightly so, since the root meaning of tranquility is trans quietus, Latin for across quiet.

So how does violence enter the picture? It’s thanks to an Italian friend of mine (an etymology expert) who taught me that the Latin quietus derives from keimai, the Greek word for ice. Now if we leap into glacial, we soon realise that it takes the hardness, the coldness and the stillness of Siberian permafrost to look inwards with bare bone honesty. No easy step that becomes more and more challenging when we start tearing off the layers of masks and veneers which constitute our comfort zones and vicarious lives.

Hence the stillness, the contemplation and the violence necessary to enable us to see our simple (not simplistic) elemental selves, question and probe our long-held notions and attitudes. To fish out our intimate selves and assess the starkness of what we see. Hence the need to press pause if we want to sort ourselves out, fill a gnawing void and/or take a more fulfilling road down life’s journey. Think about how the incredible delicacy and beauty of water lilies depends entirely on growing in stagnant water.

As I am writing this piece. I am looking at some stunning photos of autumn’s colours which friends living in the States and northern Europe have been sharing with me. The incredible blaze of russet and gold never fails to amaze me primarily because there is no such autumn in the Mediterranean. Also, because they project such a spurt of energy before winter’s blight overwhelms and denudes; but which will eventually resurrect in spring and frolic in the summer.

I think the seasonal shifts trace what we attain from interiorizing silence.

We do not have to be existential brooders to feel the need to get away from the noise, the chaos and the humdrum of daily life. In fact, its magnetic force cannot be ignored. Those who refuse to stop and take stock of their lives are likely to end up running from themselves by clinging to some sort of addiction or illusion or both. Which is like running on the spot and never being comfortable in your own skin.  I often wonder whether highly visible tattoos are just a fad. To me, these intricate images ultimately reveal a hiding from, a negation of self.  Perhaps I am reading too much into this trend, but I have always regarded the frivolity of fashion as the outer layer of a much more incisive social comment.

Another important thing about interiorised silence and serenity is that for all to work we cannot hope to find some sort of panacea to our angst. It often happens that we ask questions when we know perfectly well that there are no answers. Far from being a waste of time, I think that taken with the right spirit, questioning ourselves and everything else in our lives leads to a letting go that is neither cowardly nor resignation, but rather an acceptance of our limitations. Think of the stress ebbing out of your body when you let your arms hang palm outwards. Also, the kind of letting go when creating something takes over and you recede further and further into its shadows while relishing your handiwork that recreates yourself. Besides, we keep on asking questions because we are only human. After all, asking ‘why?’ is the million-dollar question since it combines the imprint of personal demons and the impact of the zeitgeist.

Cocooning in stillness and calm helps us to realise that interiorised silence fuels the point of take-off, the ongoing journey, and our destination. As I said earlier, we do occasionally need to get away from it all to take stock, but we also need to do so frequently in our daily lives. When I used to teach I would once in a while start a lesson by referring to a headline or reading a quote from the Bible, Rumi, Hesse’s Siddhartha or the Bhagavad Gita or whatever I happened to have heard or read and highlighted to share with the class. We’d spend a few minutes in perfect silence absorbing the words. Sometimes followed by a discussion. Sometimes not.  I believe that doing something like this at home and at work brings people together in a meaningful way.


Noemi Zarb
Noemi Zarb
Writing, teaching, marketing. I have pursued three totally different career paths with the power of words serving both as link and lynchpin. Now I dedicate most of my time to writing - a never-ending romance. Typical of content writing I have been and am still responsible for scripting webs, advertorials as well as full-length articles. As a feature/opinion writer, I have over 600 articles published in Malta's leading newspapers and magazines (and still counting) - an experience which honed my interviewing skills when I interviewed countless painters and people involved in the performance arts. I also have over two decades of teaching English Literature and Critical Thinking via Textual Analysis under my belt having prepared students for the IB Diploma in English Language and Literature as well as MATSEC, IGCSE and SEC examinations in English language and English Literature. TEFL sometimes punctuated my summer holidays. Dealing with young people keeps you young and I have truckloads of cherished memories of my past students My current writing continues to be inspired by what life throws at me together with my critical thinking of what goes on (or doesn’t) around me firing my sense perception and vice versa. Being immersed in the corporate world gives me endless opportunities to observe facets of human behavior which invariably have me brood over. Learning and thinking over what I learn is still my way forward.

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  1. Ancora una volta un tuo importante lavoro, che ha per argomento un’essenziale necessità per tutti… c’è di mezzo sempre la consapevolezza piuttosto che la superficialità… la conflittualità interiore per dialogare con noi stessi… o anche il “semplicemente” stare, cioè l’essere nel presente in mezzo al tutto…
    Ti ringrazio Noemi, per tutto…

    TRANSLATION: Once again your important work, which has as its subject an essential need for everyone … there is always awareness rather than superficiality … the inner conflict to dialogue with ourselves … or even “simply” being, that is being in the present in the midst of everything …
    Thank you Noemi, for everything …

    • Milko, I am so overwhelmed by your comment that a mere ‘Thank you’ is so lame. Yet all I can say is heartfelt namaste’.

  2. Life and work go on with questions, not answers. We should constantly ask ourselves if we have taken the right direction. The best things in life are not easily achieved and failure to observe oneself can only lead to mediocrity. I think Socrates explained it much better: “A life without research is not worth living”: Socrates’ reflection also applies to work.
    For this purpose it is suggested to have a place to listen to us. The need for solitude is a fundamental and essential characteristic of individual personal well-being and even more so today, in a technological world made of global connections and virtual relations. It is a useful need to reflect on oneself, to experience intimacy and to live deep emotional experiences. Knowing how to be with ourselves helps to be with others and promotes knowledge and relationship.

    • Thank you so much, Aldo for taking the time to read and comment on my piece. I love your typical ‘parole sante’.

  3. Dear Noemi, it is always a pleasure to read your writings and meditate on your thoughts, in which I am always in harmony. The night, fascinating, mysterious, disturbing but also relaxing and pleasant, especially when there are two of you.
    Thanks and congratulations for your contribution.

    • Thank you ever so much, Massimo for your heartfelt appreciation. Your comment that we are really whole when there are two of us is so true.

    • Apologies for tardy reply Tania. Your praise is more than special because you are a big sister to me with a bigger heart. I cannot thank you enough for your caring friendship.

  4. Always insightful and your words are woven together like a magic carpet. I am so impressed by how you are saying it that it distracts me from the content.
    Once again, something as simple as silence has consequences at both ends of the scale and you’ve expressed it in your unique way.

    • Thank you John for your appreciation. Yes, silence seems so simple but its infinite nuances prove otherwise. Listening to it is always an embracing sensation like no other.

  5. To get to the state of realising something is amiss (which is perhaps the precursor to silence and reflection) we have to lose satisfaction in what our lives are at the moment. Following the realisation is the doubts over what our efforts have amounted to. Well written Noemi!

    • Thank you so much Jason for reading and pondering over my piece. I love your reflections routing the path to and from silence.

    • So glad I found time to go over your essay on the many facets of silence. I believe you have explored the ethos of silence in this piece.
      As I told you earlier: it has an irresistible rhythm that pulses and punctuates the thoughtful journey into some of the underlying thoughts.
      I need the occasional separation from the everyday noise and loudness of urban life. I relish my opportunity to escape to the wilderness of Michigan’s wilderness areas and occasionally to the wilderness in northern Ontario. This retreat, it should be stated, is still not silence. It is however quiet. Sounds of primacy within nature feels so right!
      I suffer insomnia. My mind refuses to become silent. I would likely greatly benefit from silence when I can’t force myself to calmness and quiet.
      You also speak to the silence we all endure when part of us, deep within, screams to our soul to rise up, speak up. We have been conditioned, by our modern culture, to not get involved in other people’s business. Pretend we havent noticed. After all, we’re so busy. We’re always running late.
      I loved reading your thoughts in Baring the Bones.
      I anxiously await the chance to read what’s next!

    • Dear Gary I sincerely wish you the peace of mind to rest in the ‘the season of all natures’. As for your appreciation, I cannot thank you enough for all the time and reflection you put into reading my piece. Your last comment has put me on the rack of great responsibility. My heartfelt thank you once again.

  6. Thank you Noemi, another insightful read. One of my most vital needs is connecting to the breath of silence.
    A must for healing in mind, body and spirit. To go inwards into the void of being is no laughing matter, without self reflection, we can not grow spiritually, and without absolute truth, no matter how hard it stings, and it will if we are being honest, must be accepted, no matter how bitter the pill.
    Have a blessed day, and thank again.

    • Thank you so much Teresa for your appreciation. You are so right about the accompanying image. Thank you Dennis for your eagle eye.

  7. Greeting Naomi, I was unable to find the meaning of “interiorised” but I definitely know the meaning of silence as your article expands upon. I find in each sunrise and each sunset, into the darkness a silence that allows me to reflect on all that is happening around us. Voicing ones voice these days seemes to develope a silence, a silence not like the silence that brings me peace. Thank you for this article

    • Warm greetings to you Lynn. ‘To interiorise’ means to incorporate in oneself’ but what is more important is that you live the balm of silence while being so sensitive to the numbness we are allowing to assault our humanity – which is why sharing our sense perceptions makes this platform such a treasure trove. Thank you for your reflection.

    • Thank you ever so much Darlene for your appreciation. Strange isn’t it how everything in life comes in diametric opposites… ‘World is crazier and more of it than we think…’