Chinmoku: Finding Harmony in Silence
In Western cultures, silence often feels uncomfortable, like an empty void that demands to be filled with words—a pause that leaves us squirming, eager to bridge the gap with conversation. Growing up, my household was rarely quiet. There was always noise, overlapping conversations, and hardly a moment of stillness. Perhaps it’s something about Yorkshire folk; we often seem to embrace the philosophy of “why say something in two words if you can use twenty.” Known for our small talk, we’ll talk to anyone, expertly filling silence with chatter.
As a neurodivergent person, silence can amplify a sense of awkwardness. My instinct is to fill it, often by diving into my ever growing pool of special interests, sharing facts and stories in what’s usually referred to as “info-dumping.” However, this year, I’m setting myself a challenge: to embrace silence and explore the Japanese concept of chinmoku (沈黙).
In Japanese culture, silence is far from an absence of communication. It is a useful and meaningful tool, an expression of respect, reflection, and understanding. Chinmoku teaches us that silence is a space where truth can grow, where emotions can settle, and where relationships can deepen.
As philosopher Kitaro Nishida wrote in his book Zen no Kenkyū (An Inquiry into the Good):
The truth of the universe lies in the silent depths of the self, where words cannot reach." This perspective reflects the idea that silence allows for introspection, connection, and understanding that transcends language.
In conversations, my instinct is often to fill silence, driven by anxiety or a desire to connect. For many neurodivergent people, understanding unwritten social "rules" can be challenging. To cope, we might prepare in advance for social situations, rehearsing "conversations" and "scenarios" privately before they happen. As a result, we may fill awkward silences by "delivering our lines" or mimicking how others seem to navigate these moments. However, this approach often leaves little room for silence, and I’ve come to realise that in doing so, I may unintentionally drown out others’ voices.
The Gift of Listening
By embracing chinmoku, we can give others the gift of space. Silence creates room for others to speak, share, and express themselves fully. It teaches us to truly listen, not just to respond, but to understand.For me, this means resisting the urge to jump into a silent moment with an enthusiastic dive into my latest interests. Instead, I want to savour the pause, to appreciate the unspoken connection it can bring, and to let others take their turn.
Practicing Chinmoku
In 2025, I’m setting myself the goal to practice chinmoku and enjoy silent moments, both alone and with others. Here’s how I plan to do it:
- Mindful Conversations: I’ll pause more often and let the silence sit. If someone is thinking, I’ll wait instead of rushing to fill the space.
- Reflective Moments: I’ll seek out time to be silent each day, whether it’s during a walk, in nature, or even at home.
- Deep Listening: Instead of focusing on what I’ll say next, I’ll focus entirely on the person speaking.
言わぬが花 (Iwanu ga hana) — Silence is a flower.
This reminds me that silence can bloom into something beautiful, if we let it.
To anyone reading this, I encourage you to join me in this practice. Let’s see what can happen when we allow silence to speak.