Would You Like an International Day of Silence?

Or maybe just an hour, or a minute?

The Family version of the set of cards with questions, called "Talking Point". It's worth investing in a set.

I have a box of Talking Point Cards – the Family version.

Every time my husband and I drive to Perth I grab several cards we haven’t used yet so we have something to talk about on the 5-hour trip besides what we’ll order for lunch at the Woolshed Café in Williams.

As kilometres of farmland whizz by the windows I get the cards out of my bag, read each one aloud and we take turns answering them.

For example,

• If you had three wishes, what would they be?

• What was the worst haircut you ever had?

• If you could only eat three foods for the rest of your life, what would they be?

On our last trip this question came up:

• If you made up your own national holiday, what would it be called and how would we celebrate?

An idea popped into my head. Forget National holiday. I want to make up my own International holiday for 8.3 billion people.

For example, Plant a Tree Day. Imagine 8.3 billion trees being planted in 24 hours! Or Random Acts of Kindness Day. Envisage 8.3 billion kindnesses being dished out while the world completed a single spin. Then again, how about a bit of whimsy and declare a Wear Odd Coloured Socks Day. Picture how delightful Earth would look from space, with 8.3 billion people dancing through the streets, their feet flashing a kaleidoscope of unexpected tints, hues and shades.

But I finally settle for declaring an International Day of Silence for All Human Beings. Birds can sing and lions roar, but all those who walk on two legs and have the capacity to develop complex language must remain mute.

An International Day of Silence

Imagine a Worldwide Silent Retreat for 1,440 minutes. (That’s 86,400 seconds.)

The rules are simple. We can drive cars, grind coffee, operate jackhammers, laugh, whistle, burp and practice the trumpet. But no words. Not even half a word. Zilch.

Then again, maybe the day would be more memorable if we weren’t allowed to make any deliberate noise at all (i.e. one can burp because that’s a natural, almost unstoppable, body process, and our feet can’t help making a sound as they hit the ground, but no other sounds are permissible).

As Rob stops the car for roadworks, this idea grows on me. The more I talk about it, the more my mind expands with possibilities for this new International Holiday.

What would happen if humans made no noise at all for a whole day apart from burps and soft footfalls?

I imagine all the planets and stars pricking up nervous ears and moving closer to us in disbelief. What’s happening on Earth? they whisper to each other as they peer between countless satellites and other junk in the thermosphere almost blocking their view of what humans are up to. Meteors might change their direction, not wanting to get too close to an anomaly. The moon may retreat a little.

And how would humans experience this day?

If we went outside, we’d hear only nature sounds – a rabbit’s fur brushing through long grass; Moaning Frogs calling in the swamp; rain falling gently on the roof; a magpie carolling the night away; leaves rustling; babies breathing.

If we stayed indoors, we may exchange wondering glances with those we see all the time but never really look at because we’re usually too busy planning what to say to them. But today that’s not allowed. Our eyes and ears, not our tongues, will be on full alert.

And when we’re alone, maybe sitting on a chair twiddling our thumbs because we’re not used to not talking for so long, we might commune with ourselves, rediscover a deep, quiet part of us that is there all the time, waiting to be noticed and experienced.

A quote from Meister Eckhart, the German priest, philosopher and mystic who lived in the 1300s:

There is a huge silence inside each of us that beckons us into itself, and the recovery of our own silence can begin to teach us the language of heaven.

From Richard Rohr, a modern American Franciscan priest and writer:

Silence always makes everything larger, deeper, More patient, and more compassionate.

And from "The Habit of Perfection" by the Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, who lived in the 1800s:

Elected Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorled ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear.

Here we are at Williams already! Wow, how time flies when planning an International Holiday. Rob orders a steak and pepper pie, chips and salad. I eat half his chips and salad before enjoying my order of baked cheesecake with whipped cream and a coffee.

We don’t say anything. Just sit there eating and sipping and trying to connect to the huge silence inside us that makes us more patient and compassionate with each other and with the rest of the world.

With love, Marlane