@@@@@@@@@@@Silence Isn’t Awkward—It’s Sacred

Somewhere along the way, we were taught that silence is something to be fixed. We apologize for it. We rush to fill it with words, with noise, with the nearest screen or speaker. Heaven forbid we sit in a room with someone and not talk. “Awkward silence,” they call it.

But I’ve come to think that silence is anything but awkward. It’s sacred.

Not in a chanting monks and floating lotus kind of way—though, fine, good for them—but in a daily, grounding way. Like when I walk into the kitchen early in the morning and the only sound is the hum of the fridge and the gentle sigh of my aging dog settling into his bed again. No news, no podcasts, no Spotify-generated morning vibes. Just quiet.

When did we become so allergic to it?

Maybe it started with elevators and small talk, or with drive-time radio hosts shoutingj over our thoughts. Now it’s background TV while cooking, music during every errand, YouTube while folding laundry, TikToks in line at the post office. (Don’t get me started on people who watch videos in public without headphones. Who raised you?)

It’s not that I hate sound. I love music. I have a podcast, for crying out loud. But I also love the space that silence gives me. Space to think. To breathe. To not be “on.” Silence is the soft reboot my brain doesn’t even know it needs until it gets it.

And I’ve noticed something: the more I allow silence into my day, the less anxious I feel. I’m less likely to overreact, more likely to notice things. Like how good my coffee smells. Or how the light shifts on the floor in late afternoon. Or how my thoughts actually sound when they’re not competing with a thousand other voices.

Silence lets me hear myself.

So no, it’s not awkward. It’s not an empty space that needs patching. It’s a pause. A full breath. A moment to let life just… be. And maybe if we stop fearing it, we might start craving it.

I know I do.