afraid of silence

I am learning a lesson in humility I did not expect. Graduate work tends to be filled with such lessons, often arriving in the form of impostor syndrome and all its symptoms and manifestations. But this is a little heartbreaking and very personal as it touches my project specifically. My project is an argument for the moral and professional necessity of understanding the role of silence in moral life. We create silences and encounter silences all the time but we rarely learn to see or respect them, and we rarely learn to understand them without breaking them open or filling them up.

When I devised the project, I became quite quickly smitten with silence as a given, as a part of reality and also with silence as a goal, as an intentional construction that preserves something beautiful, good, or right. Moreover, I thought of myself as well-suited to silence. I live alone and I have taken not a little pride in my self-sufficiency. I live alone and have long preferred quiet in my personal space. I live alone and find it very difficult to confide in others or to open myself up to real intimacy.

But now I seem to be afraid of real solitude and afraid to sit in silence by/with myself. Mere months ago I would have felt morally superior to anyone who admitted to a fear of solitude or of silence. Now I can say I would feel compassion instead. Eventually I will be grateful for this lesson.