See What Comes To You In Silence

There’s something poignant about the first half of September. A sort of melancholy interrupted with glimpses of a thrill. I’m convinced the last week of August and the first two weeks of September are a portal where everything vital happens to you.

Moving cities or countries, switching jobs, mindsets, and views on life, and casually meeting the sort of people; unaware at the time - you’ll reference in years to come.

It’s a limbo between the repetitive present and the excitement of what might be, a crossroad of possibility and responsibility. Don’t sweat it or try to catch it, you won’t enjoy it while it’s happening. It always sneaks up on you, you won’t be aware of it until it passes. But the change it evokes in you — it’s lasting. It creates the titanium-based platform for what you’re about to become.

Silence has been my theme for the last two months. As in, I couldn’t write. I was wondering what would make me sit at a computer and finally produce some words. Not for the lack of subjects to cover, we’re all aware the world is currently batshit crazy; there is no lack of subjects. Au contraire. There are too many. Every single day. The opinions.

It’s oversaturated.

For someone that writes about society and culture, it made me go to the other extreme. I positively couldn’t take it anymore.

I heard someone say the other day: “We came out of this pandemic extra petty, with nothing but time” — and that hit home. Last year’s opinion-sharing Olympics made sense; lockdown and fear of the unknown, people sitting at their computers for the lack of social life with nothing to do but research and bullshit throughout the day. Having and exchanging opinions about everything was our way of pretending to have control in a very uncertain time we couldn’t control.

I was hoping it would stop when the lockdown finally finishes and we return (somewhat) normal.

It didn’t.

We got out extra petty.

We all know everything about the virus, the vaccine, the chip, China, Gates, racism, BLM, elections, Pakistan, Britney, Euro 2020, Afghanistan — We. Know. It. All. And we’re not stopping.

Why aren’t we stopping?

Don’t get me wrong, it’s important to speak out. That’s how we initiate much-needed change in this world. Put it in motion. But why do we have to give opinions on every single subject, event, or issue? We simply can not have knowledge about everything. Is this some kind of psychosis we’re dealing with? The post-pandemic pandemic of opinions?

When the lockdowns ended, we were all psyched to get out. I planned my summer with a math-like precision; beaches, boats, concerts, rooftops. I was everywhere, morning, afternoon, and night. I slept 3–4 hours per day. I met so many people I thought inspiring, and then BOOM, the end of July happened! Something just switched.

I was in desperate need of silence. I couldn’t take people’s energies around me anymore. Something changed. It wasn’t just going back to where we left of. People were nasty, unkind, careless, petty. So many were dimming my light to expand theirs. Putting me down, subtly, in front of others. What is it with this phenomenon of not being able to claim your space, unless you steal it from someone else?

Is that what I need to adjust to? Everywhere I turned I saw desperation; for attention, for clout, for the opposite sex, for an event, an invitation, a weekend here or there. I have never experienced being more worn out after socializing, than at this time in my life.

We went from nothingness to hysterics.

Something had to be done, I though. I can’t go on like this. I removed myself from quite literally everyone, locked myself in the house, this time on my own volition - and hung out with myself. I would spend 3–4 hours daily in Central Park, alone; I would run, walk, look at things, and observe nature. I didn’t even listen to music, I was present, aware.

I noticed things I never noticed before; I walked around by myself, sat by myself, exercised, stopped for yummiest food. Italian gelato. I would scope the whole entire of Manhattan for the best groceries, make a trip there, and make a great meal for myself. Cooking was a highlight of my day.

I would walk into a concert, performance or an exhibition by myself. I had time to write, watch, read, listen, and most importantly hear myself.

And suddenly, thing got clear. What I need to do, shat my purpose is, and how to get there.

This Sunday, at the Emmy’s, Michaela Coel gave an acceptance speech for her win for “I May Destroy You”. Everyone and their dog shared it on social media. This only tells me many more people than I realized are on the same silence and solitude path.

The concept she laid out in her speech is, in my opinion, is what will save us from these anomalous times.

“In a world that entices us to browse through the lives of others to help us better determine how we feel about ourselves, and to in turn feel the need to be constantly visible, for visibility these days seems to somehow equate to success — do not be afraid to disappear. From it. From us. For a while. And see what comes to you in the silence.”

“Visibility these days seems to somehow equate to success”. We don’t have to be visible to matter. We don’t have to post our opinions on Instagram about a subject we have no knowledge about to feel seen, and important. We can just chill and scroll around and say nothing. Absolutely nothing will happen if we don’t weigh in.

“Do not be afraid to disappear. From it. From us. For a while. And see what comes to you in the silence.” No realization, substance or creativity comes out of the noise. Nothing comes out from always being present and plugged in, from FOMO, from frantically trying to make up for the year we lost; only we come out of it - extra petty, hysterical, and aggressive, while claiming others are that to us.

Ironically, Michaela’s silence speech made me come out of my own silence. I no longer have to be present everywhere, experience every single thing, or have an opinion on all of it. My removal from the world and the silence I experienced rewarded me with a September so elated, it was pure magic. An out-of-body experience.

Let’s open our eyes. Talk less. Hear more. Not just observe, but merge with nature. The answers are not where we’re looking.

They are usually just outside of it.