How Silence Works: Emailed Conversations with Four Trappist Monks

The Carthusians, in particular, are quite rigorous and notoriously reclusive. Only family members are allowed to visit them, and even then, only once per year. There was a documentary made about them in 2005. The director asked the charterhouse if it would be possible for him to film them in 1984. The monks responded that they needed some time to think about it and replied sixteen years later that he could film them if he wanted. The Trappists, Carthusians, and the Catholic Church more generally, live on a very different timescale than we are accustomed to. Reading these interviews from them is wonderful.

  "I wonder if a lot of the cultural complexity you refer to 
  seems interesting to people because they have lost so much 
  consciousness of [their] ancestors and the long view 
  afforded by a knowledge of history. If you don’t know 
  history, everything today can seem quite novel. But in the 
  larger context of the story of human history, much of what 
  fascinates, today, is quite redundant."  
  

Years ago on HN I discovered the No Complaining Challenge[1]. I took the challenge, and continued it far beyond the 21 days, because it took me about 6 months to go 21 straight days without complaining. It took me some number of weeks to realize that the "let it all out" and "get it off your chest" thing is a myth that makes things worse rather than better. I discovered that I needed to reprogram my brain to complete the challenge. And the amazing thing to me was the discovery that it is indeed possible for me to program my brain, and to change how I think. It made me a better person, and I still years later strive not to complain. Recently I've also begun working hard not to judge other people, and let people be who they are.

Seneca also talks about how to train your brain to make yourself happier[2].

[1] http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tim-ferriss/no-complaint-exper...

[2] "Letters from a Stoic" is a good place to start. https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/93900-epistulae-morale...

Buddhism has been my guide for many years, by virtue of the fact that the philosophy and practice are so pure, without trappings, without a "thing" to belive in (quite the opposite, the core teaching is non-self, which is to say, neither the existence of a separate self, nor the existence of a non-separate self -- honestly, I'm not sure what remains).

And yet, this notion of sin that Father A brings up, something rings true; it's as if the busy-ness of life, one's myriad interests, etc., are all just covering over, just avoiding that which must be faced; without doing so it seems even a "rich", fulfilling life is lived on the surface of an ocean deep (i.e. from the POV of a monastic/mystic).

I remember one day when my friends who traveled with me and I, along with many of the monks, were working on polishing a good amount of brass items outside. My friends and I were talking about all sorts of topics as we did our work, and fairly loudly at that. I don't recall how exactly it happened, but I suddenly became aware of the fact that we were the only ones talking. The monks were diligently polishing in silence and probably trying to tune out our banter for the sake of paying attention to their work and remembering God. Of course nobody scolded us or told us to be quiet, but for whatever reason that only made me feel even more embarassed!

Now something mentioned in the article is that in the monastery, one has to face oneself and the Adversary. When I first came to Iveron I experienced a great peace and focus. But in only a few days, I saw how the simplicity, silence, and stillness of life made me come face to face with myself.

When it came time for meals, we ate in a large communal hall. Everyone ate in silence while one monk read something for spiritual edification, such as the life of a Saint. Although the monks generally don't eat meat, fish, or dairy, at times of feasts they will have fish and dairy. One day they served an absolutely delicious meal of fish and cheese on roasted eggplant. Then a few days later it came time for leftovers... I got a plate of beans, while someone near me got the dish I loved. And at that moment I became acutely aware of my utter lack of thanksgiving -- that I had food, that I was being served with such hospitality, that I could even make such a trip across the world -- because I was instead consumed with envy of my brother and his meal of fish. It was thanks to the quieting of my mind through the life of the monastery that I was even able to recognize this fact. But in seeing this weakness, this missing the mark (one translation of "sin"), I was given the opportunity to correct it.

There is also a different kind of silence that I experienced. Morning services at the monastery began fairly early; around 4:30 if I recall correctly (and many of the monks had already been up for their private morning prayers). One of my favorite memories of my trip was walking outside to the church at 4:30 because Athos has absolutely no light pollution. I had never before seen the arms of the Milky Way so clearly, and the sky was filled with countless stars. I find this to be an illustration of what we can see when we can move past the noise in our lives: it was only the "silence" of the lack of light pollution that allowed me to behold the true beauty of the sky.

In this silence, what we are really trying to behold is the Image of God in every person, including the ways in which we have obstucted it in ourselves. This silence is the silence of our judgments against others, our envy of others' blessings and accomplishments, our assumptions about the crosses others do or do not bear... all of the noise that prevents us from having true communion with other people -- and with God -- in an authentic and loving way. This silence reveals to us just how broken we ourselves are, and in so humbling us helps to eradicate all of the noise we inflict upon our neighbor and ourselves.

If you'd like to learn more about silence and the life of the monks on Mt. Athos, I recommend "The Mountain of Silence" by Kyriacos Markides.