Sound of Silence

The sailboat needs a motor to push it out of the harbor, past the bridge and into the channel and finally open sea. Then the captain and crew raise the sails and turn the boat over to the winds. And for however long the boat stays out until it is decided to head back in, there is silence. Oh yes, there is the rush of the water past the hull, and the gentle shush of the air against the sails and perhaps quiet talk between those on  board. But in a world where is always background noise of a motor, cars rushing past, someone playing music much too loudly, being out on the water is a blessed moment of stillness.
When was the last quiet moment you had? There seems to be a human  need for such, whether it be an organized silent retreat or a few minutes of meditation alone. Yet at the same time, many become very uncomfortable with silence, even deliberating seeking something to dis spell it at quickly as possible.
Granted, some silence is manipulative and unwelcome: the person who refuses to respond to an urgent question, the child who deals with fear by withdrawing into silence, the abuser who uses silence an a tool for intimidation. But most will starting talking about something, anything, in the face of  a silence. Or they will turn on music, take sudden interest in some side attraction, do something outrageous to fill that awful silence.
What could  be so frightening about silence? Could it be that we will be brought face to face with something in ourselves we have covered over by noise? Or maybe we will feel a loss of control when we come up against that most uncontrollable force, silence. When things get silent, we are pushed back into ourselves, and whatever we might find there.
That is why psychotherapy so often calls on the therapist to be silent. Freud called the silence of the therapist the "greatest gift" of therapy, as it sent the client into necessary inner work. Of course, it assumes the therapist knows how to shut up!
And it helps to have moments of silence, on a sailboat or elsewhere!