The Man
There’s a story. A story that’s all but 16 pages. But a story that stays with you long after you have read it. It is a simple story. A quiet story. Set in the frozen north. A story of a man and his dog. Both of whom are travelling in the frozen wilderness. There is no dialogue in this story. The man never says a word. We don’t even get to know his name. The only utterances are those made by his barking dog. Nothing more. All we do, is follow him as he journeys to his destination. Watch him, just like his dog, as he makes decisions. Decisions that, while made to ensure his survival, slowly, but surely cement his incoming death. Decisions that start from a point of confidence, but slowly turn more and more to desperation. From the beginning of the story, we know he is going to die. And at the end of the story, he does, with his dog looking at him, from afar.
While it may not seem like it at first, this story makes use of silence. First, the man is alone with his dog. He has no one to talk to. No one to consult. He only has himself. And the silence that comes with being by himself. And the curious thing is that it is in his aloneness that we see how aware his dog is of the environment, and how unaware the man is to that same environment. But another important aspect is that it is set in the frozen north. In the cold. And the thing about the cold, is that nothing happens. Especially the kind of cold experienced in the frozen north. Scandinavian colleagues have told me that there is usually seasonal depression in those countries, coinciding with winter. The cold encourages stillness. And with stillness comes quiet. Silence. And I’m slowly realizing that nothing makes people more uncomfortable than silence.
Jesus
“Rise, let us be going. See, My betrayer is at hand.” This is what Jesus said to Peter, James and John, just before his betrayal. He said this after he had separated himself and the three from the rest of the disciples, seemingly understanding intuitively that less is more. He said this after he had taken them away from the rest, up to Gethsemane, a garden, with it’s tranquil, quiet, nature, away from the noise. He said this after he had separated himself from these three, so that he could talk to his father, seemingly because he knew some things are to be done in quiet isolation. He said this after he had lamented at their inability to stay vigilant anytime he left them, saying to them that the flesh was weak. And more importantly, he said this, after he had prayed to God, three times, to take away the suffering that was about to come his way. The Bible doesn’t mention God’s response to Jesus. It remains silent on this. Jesus said these words to the three, I think, because even in asking for his suffering to be taken away, he had heard nothing but silence. A silence that told him that the path remained unchanged. He had to walk it.
Dread
All the stories that have left me with a feeling of existential dread seem to have one thing in common. They have this quiet atmosphere about them. They are never very dramatic, at least not for the majority of the story. They are not bombastic. Or loud. They are, more often than not, slow burns. Some of the scariest horror movies take advantage of this aspect. Hereditary was almost excruciatingly slow. You knew something was happening, and you wanted it to happen faster. But it didn’t. It took it’s time. Movies like Insidious do this too. And when you think of the classic jump scare in a horror movie, it is almost always preceded by dead silence. Silence plays an important role. I think, at it’s core, it is because silence has a way of heightening our senses. Of heightening our experience.
ANC
Anybody who owns or has tried active noise cancelling earphones or headphones can attest to the eerie feeling they had the first time they turned it on, especially when there’s nothing playing on them. I got to see the reaction of my dad recently when he tried this. We were in the middle of a town, and there was some loud noise that was coming from our left. But I toggled the ANC, and you could see him looking around, almost looking for the noise that his brain knew was there, but that he couldn’t hear. I cannot explain how weird it is to not hear the world around you. It feels freaky. It feels dangerous. And it feels dangerous not only when you are out and about, and are at risk of getting hit by a car or bike, but also when you are alone in your house, safe and sound. I’ve read of people turning the ANC off after some time when they are at home, because they feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with the silence.
Noise
One of the weirdest things for me - and one of the reasons I don’t like comedies - is the laugh track. It seems that we are so inattentive and distracted these days that shows need to put laugh tracks in shows in order to tell us that a joke has been made. And this just happened in the late 80’s and early 90’s. Before, people would watch silent Charlie Chaplin movies - silent being the key word - and laugh, no problem. In an era of the silent film. Heck, we experienced this in our younger years through the legendary Mr. Bean. But we’ve slowly degenerated to more and more noise. Tikoks are a barrage of visual and vocal cues to ensure we stay attentive. It’s the chick applying makeup while giving a story, because she knows you’ll lose focus if the two don’t go along. It’s the dramatic Nigerian sounds on every ’funny’ short video. And even this doesn’t seem to do it. You know how I know? Because I’ve seen people scroll on and on through Tiktok, stopping for a split of a second on every video, before moving on. Stop one day, and look around at people on their phones. You’ll see this too. It’s like the finger on the screen has a mind of it’s own.
Numb
But the thing about noise is that it numbs. The more noise there is, the more numb. And the more numb we become, the more we need to turn the volume on the noise up, just to overcome the numbness. And the vicious cycle continues. It’s in people needing louder and louder music, to the point of disturbing neighbors. How numb is that person if his/her music doesn’t affect him, but affects the neighbors? It’s in people needing higher and higher doses of drugs. Because the dose of yesterday doesn’t do anything for you anymore. It’s in people needing more hardcore porn. Because that video from yesterday doesn’t make you as hard today as it did yesterday. It’s in people needing harder and harder sex, because soft sex doesn’t do it anymore. It’s in people needing more variety, because who the fuck wants vanilla ice cream anymore.
Makes you wonder if this increase in noise is correlated to the increase in mental health problems.
Dragons
I’m willing to wager that outside of physical danger, the next worst thing we fear is silence. And as I’ve mentioned above, we go to any length to fill that silence. And we fill it with anything, good or bad, useful or useless. Silence magnifies your flaws, and reveals your every imperfection. Silence holds you accountable for your mistakes. Silence tells you it’s probably your fault. Silence tells you that no one’s going to save you.
In ancient folklore stories- and some more recent ones - the presence of a dragon is always signified by silence. No one goes to the dragon’s lair unless they seek death. No one wants to wake it up. And so anywhere close to the dragon’s lair, silence rules. But there’s a curious fact in all these stories. The fact that dragons always guard treasure.
I believe that one of the biggest differentiators between boys and men is their tolerance to silence, both in themselves and in others. Push a man into silence, and one of two things will happen. He'll come out a better man, or he won't come out at all.
As for me, there was a time when I needed God. And the best thing He ever did for me was give me silence.