The Northwind family gathered to celebrate each other last Friday at the Indianapolis Zoo. A real joy for me was the chance to talk to our team members and their families, meeting spouses, parents, children, and siblings. Making my rounds, I realized how different the dynamic becomes when we step outside of the workplace and interact with each other on a purely social level. I smile as I think of the many kids with whom I spoke, and the delicious awkwardness of their reactions to me: how do I respond to his silly questions? Do I make eye contact? How long do I have to stand here with this guy?

Of course, awkwardness isn’t limited to interactions with children. After talking to a team member and his wife for a few moments, he smiled sheepishly at me and said, “I’m sorry about my geeky awkwardness.” As he said it, I realized that there had been a space of silence in the conversation as I simply smiled at his beautiful family, standing there looking intently at his wife and children. In a large group of people, it can be so easy to to glance across the blur of faces so I try to look into each person’s eyes. The spark always reveals itself but sometimes a moment of silence appears. I found his response endearingly charming and precious. Who says we can’t be innocent in our adulthood?

Driving home from the Zoo later that evening, Alanis Morissette’s song, All I Really Want, appeared on the radio, greeting us with her unique 90’s sound and angst.

Why are you so petrified of silence?
Here can you handle this?
Did you think about your bills, you ex, your deadlines
Or when you think you’re going to die?
Or did you long for the next distraction?

What is silence? Google tells us it’s the complete absence of sound. Thinking about my various conversations at the picnic, some of the most interesting, and profound, moments occurred during or immediately after silence. In particular, my silence. Entering into an interaction, there are the pleasantries, acknowledgements, and introductions. But the best parts happened when I closed my mouth. My silence created space for something else to occur. Someone else could step into it, was allowed room to share, and even if that room opened an awkward moment of hesitation, there was beautiful possibility in it. It really wasn’t awkward…it was profoundly human.

A quick search of the internet reveals many, many, perspectives on silence. One finds posts on the benefits of silence as well as the fears of silence. Silence in social interactions can create awkwardness but sitting in our own private silence can also cause discomfort. Sometimes great discomfort. I think Alanis taps into it: did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines? Or when you think you’re going to die? Or did you long for the next distraction?

Silence with ourselves can be a dangerous thing, drawing us into a different conversation, that may force us to confront things we’d rather not confront. Silence draws us into the depths. The voices above become muted and we’re left with the signals in the noise. Silence demands something, causing vulnerability and unease as we come face to face with those things that are easily hidden behind the noise of distraction. Signs emerge in that silence, the unseen paths forward that often lead us back through some rough terrain. Redemption or mission…maybe both. Hiding in those depths are the nudges, some pushing us to deeper reflection, and some calling us to action.

Sometimes they come as regrets, the reels rewound to make us see failure or stupidity, but there is also more. Is that ringing in your ears from too much caffeine or are those alarm bells? Silence may force us to confront something we’re ignoring. Internally or externally. In the stillness, we might hear it: is that our conscience or the voice of God? Guilt is not something to fear and burying it in the noise isn’t helping. Regret offers lessons that must be learned and there is something liberating in turning our face toward it – the path to redemption begins with the prick of guilt.

We may fear revelation in the stumbling and stammering we don’t want to remember or acknowledge, however, there are also glimpses of genius, affection, insight, and wisdom. The rising above that we didn’t notice or reminder of the generosity we’d forgotten. Self-compassion can also be found in the silence.

Silence is also a pathway to decluttering our mind, our heart, and our soul. It’s like cleaning out the junk in the attic. All the detritus that has accumulated over the years. It’s removing too much furniture from the family room, giving the space a fresh, open feel. Or throwing out old paint or wood scraps collected in the garage, or tossing the broken toys sitting at the bottom of the toy-box. Silence can help us remove the clutter and allow something else to occur – creating room for something new or room to move – free space opens the door to other ideas or the freedom of being unencumbered.

Silence opens the door to creative pools lying just below, waiting to be tapped. Solutions to tough problems often appear in the empty space of silence. The mythical “shower brainstorm” is for real – great ideas can appear in the undistracted space of the shower. Running water is not complete silence, but it is effective “white noise,” blocking out other more distracting sounds and soothing us in mantra-like stillness of mind.

In conversation or our time alone, silence creates space for something else to enter. The pause is as important as the note and our frenetic need to get to the next note, or the deep fear of the space between, locks us into the acedia of busyness and distraction. Are we giving others enough space to respond or consuming all the air with our own ideas, our own will, and our own desires? Silence invites others to enter. Are we giving ourselves enough space that something deeper can enter?

Why are you so petrified of silence? Are you afraid you won’t get the chance to make your point, tell your story, or demonstrate your keen insight? Are you afraid you might hear a deeper voice whispering in the stillness? Or do you simply long for the next distraction?

The truth about silence is that it creates the opportunity for us to receive. In the silent mist, the unexpected appears, bringing the possibility of surprise and delight, as well as the danger of the unknown. It may cost us something, or it may reward us infinitely more in the encounter, idea, or the conviction to move forward. Perhaps the silence will bring cost and reward. In all cases, it is taking us somewhere – more often than not, moving us forward.

Reflecting on the many eyes I looked into at our company picnic, I see the spark of the Divine arcing across the space created in the pause, and I’m reminded of similar flashes in the dark silent stillness of my own moments in meditation and contemplation. That spark appears in places where room is made for it and we have the courage to receive what it brings. Perhaps it brings some discomfort, but that’s ok. We’re not made for comfort, we’re made for greatness.