Thank You, Thank You Silence

In the Age of Noise.

Listening to a rock song is a weird way to be reminded of the value and necessity of silence.

But that’s what happened to me the other day when my Spotify playlist, in random mode, spit out Alanis Morissette’s “Thank U.”

If you’re not familiar with, or have simply forgotten the song, Morissette presents a laundry list of things that helped restore her mental health.

Here’s the chorus:

“Thank you India

Thank you providence

Thank you disillusionment

Thank you nothingness

Thank you clarity

Thank you, thank you silence”

She’s not just thanking silence. She’s double-thanking it.

(Quick digression: It reminds me of God’s running commentary on Creation in Genesis 1. After each day, God describes things as “good,” but once the Divine edict to eat plants and only plants is presented, God describes things as “very good.”)

Silence isn’t just another element of mental hygiene, Morissette is telling us. It’s doubly important. I dare say essential.

“Thank U” hit the airwaves in 1998, before the arrival of smartphones. If she wrote the song today, she would have triple-thanked silence.

Similarly, the comedian Bill Hicks, who died in 1994, once said: “Watching television is like taking black spray paint to your third eye.” If he had lived long enough to see smartphones, Hicks would have said, “Scrolling is like gouging out your third eye with a melon scoop.”

The constant pinging of notifications, the ceaseless availability of music and podcasts, the tidal wave of TikTok videos – how can anyone stay sane?

We would much rather distract ourselves than look within ourselves. When we gaze within, we might not like what we see – and that’s why it is so important that we take a look.

You don’t need The Alignment to inform you that smartphones are having a horrible effect on us. That subject has been extensively explored elsewhere.

What I’m suggesting is that we need to take the next step. It’s not enough to set aside our smartphones on a regular basis. We need to create or seek out intervals and spaces of silence.

Of course, smartphones are not the only source of the problem. While I’m convinced that we need to restore our focus on climate change, noise pollution is also degrading our experience and our planet.

For the love of God, why must so many restaurants blast music, forcing diners to shout at each other in order to make themselves heard above the din?

Leaf blowers, meanwhile, do double-duty damage, contributing to climate change through carbon exhaust and imitating the sound of jet engines, in residential neighborhoods.

And there is a seeming epidemic of logorrhea, the actual term for excessive and uncontrollable talkativeness. I’ve come across it in podcasts, on talk radio, and even in my personal life.

There is a reason Buddhists hold weeklong silent retreats, rather than nonstop talking retreats.

There is a reason meditators generally practice first thing in the morning, before noise interrupts.

Silence is the gateway to our souls.

In recognition of this, a minute of silence is a regular element of Shabbat services at my Reform synagogue. But it is only a minute, just enough to stick your toe in the gateway.

On my honeymoon, 20 years ago, one of the most memorable – and enjoyable – moments was an experience of deep silence. On the Swedish island of Gotland, my wife and I stumbled upon a deserted pier in an undeveloped area. There were no people, no cars, no buildings. Just a few waterfowl, whose occasional squawks could be clearly heard from 100 yards away.

We sat on the pier, saying nothing, serenely listening to the silence – if that makes sense. It was as if time had stopped. We were at peace, profoundly so. I didn’t want to leave that spot, but the memory of it remains embedded in my soul.

William Penn, the founder of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, once said:

“True silence is the rest of the mind, and is to the spirit what sleep is to the body.”

The Norwegian explorer and author Erline Kagge was the first person in history to reach the North Pole, South Pole and the summit of Mount Everest on foot. You could say he went to great lengths to find peace and quiet.

In his book “Silence: In the Age of Noise,” he wrote:

“Silence is a key to unlocking new ways of thinking. I don’t regard it as a renunciation, but rather a practical resource for living a richer life.”

Without silence, how can we contemplate the meaning of our lives, connect with our souls or a Higher Power, examine our actions and habits, and recommit to positive change?

Silence is nourishment. Without it, how can we restore our mental health?

I’m with Alanis Morissette. Thank you, thank you silence.