It was the silent, stoic, elderly couple in the corner booth who caught my eye.

The entire restaurant was an ocean of noise, clanking plates, chattering people, and piped-in music. But the old man and woman were serene and quiet, like devoted monastics.

Many restaurant patrons, hypnotized by their glowing smartphone screens, seemed lost in digital rabbit holes and social media amusements. Of course, this is the point of the attention economy. Algorithms and noisy videos are designed to distract us from the real world.

Other patrons conversed, but their conversations were loud, abrupt, and they didn’t seem to listen to one another. It was more like a disjointed competition for attention.

The elderly couple serenely gazed out their window. Then they engaged in quiet conversation. The gentleman said something clever, and his wife (I presume) smiled and laughed. They were thoroughly enjoying one another’s company.

When their server arrived, the old couple listened intently, made their orders, and engaged in pleasant conversation. Their server laughed at something the gentleman said.

The old couple’s dining booth was a space of serenity, dignity, and presence. They were quietly engaged with one another, and comfortable with stretches of silence.

Stretches of silence.

Why is it, today, that we seem increasingly averse to silence and solitude?

Silence is pure

In my university days, there were always parties and dance clubs to attend.

Many of my friends loved the loud music and energy of such events. It didn’t bother them that they had to shout to hear one another. Or that they had to push and shove their way to the dance floor.

Sometimes I’d tag along, but I never liked loud events and crowded places. There were many Friday nights when I snuck off to the empty solitude of the music building to play the piano. Other times, I walked to the campus duck pond, to sit on a bench and read.

I found these moments of solitude to be restorative.

“We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox.” — Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

I guess I’ve always favored solitude and quietness over noise and gatherings.

My wife and I look for intimate and tranquil dining establishments over noisy, busy ones. We like to be able to hear one another, softly share our thoughts, and enjoy a quiet meal.

In today’s culture of endless distractions and noise, escaping to moments of silence and reflection seems more important than ever.

The moment after the door closes

My wife is a hospice nurse who works weekends. She cherishes her quiet time in the early mornings, before leaving for work.

She sits on the back patio, sipping coffee, and enjoying our cat’s company.

I joined her once or twice but quickly learned that it was an intrusion. This was her time, to think, reflect, and prepare for the day.

I learned to give her space to enjoy it.

And then, after she hugs me goodbye, the front door closes and it’s my turn to be alone. As much as I love my wife’s company, I also enjoy downtime to think, read, and create.

“Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.” — Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth

What about you? Do you make time for silence? For solitude?

In today’s culture of getting ahead, productivity hacks, social media distractions, and endless interruptions, it can be hard to carve out a practice of silence and solitude.

But the rewards are worth it.

Never miss a good chance to shut up

In my law enforcement career, I learned the power of silence.

As a young detective, I discovered that suspects will talk more if you shut up and listen. People get uncomfortable with silence and tend to fill it with their words.

“Never miss a good chance to shut up.” — Will Rogers

During my ten years as police chief, I did a lot of public speaking. News interviews, police academy graduation speeches, etc. What I discovered was the power of the pause.

During speeches, I would often pause at various points, and say nothing. The audience would get very quiet, anxiously anticipating my next words. That’s the power of silence.

“Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving us wordy evidence of the fact.” — George Eliot, Impressions of Theophrastus Such

I learned in the endless meetings I attended that people love to bloviate. Politicians, other police chiefs, department heads, and staff all prattled on with their opinions and arguments. But too much talking trims the effectiveness of your message.

Over time I practiced holding my tongue in meetings. I’d listen intently, remain silent, and wait for the right time to interject. As a result, people paid closer attention to what I had to say.

Silence is the sleep that nourishes wisdom

Recently I listened to a YouTube video about the power of silence.

The video noted how powerful silent marches of protest can be, as well as moments of silence to honor the fallen. The video also pointed out how many religious traditions rely on silence as a pathway to the divine.

To combat today’s culture of noise, the video listed the following four benefits of silence.

The quieter you are, the more you hear

People in conversations often listen poorly. They’re busy thinking about what to say next instead of closely listening to others. As a result, they understand less, thus making their comments less impactful.

Even our inner voice can distract us. The constant chatter of your mind can prevent you from hearing and being more present. Learning meditation is a good way to combat this.

Being quiet is also about being present. If you’re lost in your smartphone, you’re less likely to take in what’s going on around you.

Silence boosts creativity

Some of my best ideas happen during long walks, when I’m alone and away from distinctions like TV, computers, and conversations with others. Other times, when I have writer’s block, I take a break and sit in my wife’s garden. I feel the breeze, watch the hummingbirds, and relax. Before long, new ideas emerge.

Silence sends a powerful message

As I noted above, silent pauses in a speech can be powerful. People don’t like awkward silences and lean in to hear what you’re going to say next. And in noisy meetings, holding your tongue often gets noticed. Before long, others will ask what you think. Then, when you share, people tend to listen more closely.

Silence improves wellbeing

Society today is used to noise. It’s all around us. Traffic, road construction, loud music, advertisements. We don’t realize how destructive it can be. Perhaps that’s why people flee to nature, to camp and restore their sanity.

“Silence is the sleep that nourishes wisdom.” — Francis Bacon

One night my wife and I were trying to watch a program on TV but the commercials became unbearable. They were frequent and weirdly louder than the show we were watching.

So we shut off the TV, lit a candle, and read our books instead. The difference was palpable. I could feel myself relaxing, breathing slower, and becoming more focused.

The other day I strolled out into the garden and took a photo of Clarice, our little stone sculpture angel. She’s always there, peacefully waiting for me when I need to escape from the noise and clutter of life.

Try to find your Clarice. Your quiet place, to escape and restore your spirit.

You’ll find that silence is good for your soul.

(Originally published at JohnPWeiss.com)

Before you go

I’m John P. Weiss. I draw cartoons, paint, shoot black & white photos, and write elegant essays about life. Check out my Saturday Letter here.