Six glorious days of quiet and peace and thinking and margin and space and relaxing and did I mention quiet? Silence. That highly underrated element of the introvert universe, that superpower of those gifted with quiet. In a world that never shuts up, silence is so absent that many have never experienced it ever. It's like those who grow up in big cities with lots of light pollution have never seen the Milky Way except in pics that someone took, somewhere else.
I made an interesting trip across America three years ago on a bicycle over an eight week period, with a group of Americans. There are so so many things I could tell you about that trip, but the one that intersects our chapter this morning is the introvert table. It came about because of the three Earl-like monsters on the trip. The kind that if-their-eyes-are-open-their-mouths-are-moving types. Fred especially. Never a ruder non-stop talker ever existed. I actually ended up bunking with him the very first night I joined this group in Seattle on our way to D.C. Never again. I bunked as far away from Fred as humanly possible and still be indoors after that.
The introvert group out of sheer despair finally made a sign that we stood on our eating table, especially especially at breakfast. "NO talking allowed at this table." If you are not an introvert, you may find that sign offensive or rude or controlling. But for those of us sitting there, it was heaven. We just wanted a quiet morning, alone with our own thoughts, and NOT anyone else's thoughts, until later in the day, . . . maybe.
I have had six days alone with my thoughts for the most part, and it has been so refreshing. I am gonna need that refreshment because now I will be logging three months with my dad, and he is near-Fred in his need urgency frantic panic to never have any silence. What gives me energy and fills me with life, fills him with dread and fear. At least I imagine this to be true, but I can't be sure, because he has never given silence a try.
I made an interesting trip across America three years ago on a bicycle over an eight week period, with a group of Americans. There are so so many things I could tell you about that trip, but the one that intersects our chapter this morning is the introvert table. It came about because of the three Earl-like monsters on the trip. The kind that if-their-eyes-are-open-their-mouths-are-moving types. Fred especially. Never a ruder non-stop talker ever existed. I actually ended up bunking with him the very first night I joined this group in Seattle on our way to D.C. Never again. I bunked as far away from Fred as humanly possible and still be indoors after that.
The introvert group out of sheer despair finally made a sign that we stood on our eating table, especially especially at breakfast. "NO talking allowed at this table." If you are not an introvert, you may find that sign offensive or rude or controlling. But for those of us sitting there, it was heaven. We just wanted a quiet morning, alone with our own thoughts, and NOT anyone else's thoughts, until later in the day, . . . maybe.
I have had six days alone with my thoughts for the most part, and it has been so refreshing. I am gonna need that refreshment because now I will be logging three months with my dad, and he is near-Fred in his need urgency frantic panic to never have any silence. What gives me energy and fills me with life, fills him with dread and fear. At least I imagine this to be true, but I can't be sure, because he has never given silence a try.
