What Remains When the Noise Is Gone

There comes a time when we begin to appreciate quietness differently.

When we are young, silence can feel uncomfortable. We want music, conversation, movement, people around us.

Then life happens.

Responsibilities arrive. Work becomes demanding. Children grow up. Friends become busy. The telephone rings more often than we would like.

And somewhere along the way, quietness begins to feel like a gift.

Sitting alone with a cup of tea does not necessarily mean being lonely.

Sometimes it means finally having a little space to hear our own thoughts.

Perhaps that is why some of the happiest moments in later life are not particularly exciting.

A slow walk.

A familiar book.

Rain against the window.

A conversation that does not need to be rushed.

There is a line attributed to Blaise Pascal: “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

I don’t know whether we need to take the statement quite so seriously.

But I understand the feeling behind it.

When the noise disappears, we sometimes discover what we had been too busy to notice.

And perhaps that is not emptiness.

Perhaps it is simply ourselves, finally getting a chance to speak.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah, Guwahati, Assam, India, Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah, YouTube: conversewithasmile, email rajatchandrasarmah@gmail.com

Published by Rajat Chandra Sarmah