My friend was telling me today that when she and another friend of mine were facetiming one another a couple nights ago, my name came up in conversation and they were discussing how strange it is that I can find such comfort in silence. The two of them, as do many of the people I know, seem to have this irrepressible desire to be surrounded by a never-ending stream of noise and conversation. As soon as silence falls, they start to writhe with discomfort and urgently think of ways to ignite the flow of sound once more.
I believe the Swedish film director, Ingmar Bergman put the feeling of finding comfort in silence into words really beautifully, “Sometimes I go for days without speaking to a soul. I think, “I should make that call,” but I put it off. Because there’s something pleasurable about not talking. But then I love talking, so it’s not that. But sometimes it can be nice. It’s not like I sit here philosophising, because I’ve no talent for that. It’s just this thing about silence that is so wonderful.”
This resonated with me very strongly. It isn’t that I am intentionally aiming to make the conversation drift into silence but if it does, I do not feel decomposed. The state of silence is congenial, empty; no pressures to continue conversation, just sharing the peaceful company of your friends.
The logistics of it seem almost paradoxical so I am not sure how to define this feeling or explain it to those I know without tripping over my own words, so this is my attempt to put it into writing. Or, perhaps, these are simply the experiences of an ambivert.
There is certain comfort in silence
