STRIKING A HAPPY MEDIUM ON TALK
By Olivene Godfrey
Being one who enjoys talking, and who may indeed be guilty of talking too much at times, I remembered recently an article I read many years ago in Life magazine on the subject of talking that I found both interesting and amusing.
The author, who admitted to being a compulsive talker, wrote of her attempts to find out what it's like to be completely silent. I laughed aloud when I read about the day she took a solitary hike up a mountain. Later, resting in the shade of a tree, she spied a lizard. "Hi Lizard, " she said, then clapping her brow in shame, as it was her second attempt that day in her vow to be silent. I could imagine myself speaking to the lizard as she did and her other attempts to discover the joys of silence.
While I confess that one of my favorite activities is engaging in conversation with interesting people, I also know the value of solitude. And lively conversation is so stimulating for me that I need the intervals of solitude to recover. I need the quiet times to think long thoughts, to rebuild my strength, to try to reach decisions after meditation.
But, too much solitude is not good for me. I discovered that during the years when my son was infant and a toddler. Living in a city where I knew few people, I spent almost all of my time with my child. I adored him and enjoyed caring for him and playing with him. But, when he about four-years-old, I realized that I was thinking, besides talking, on the level of the child. I was about like the woman who after being confined to her home with young children for several years attended an adult dinner party. To her dismay, she suddenly realized that she had told her dinner partner, "Now, you clean that plate good."
When I decided it was imperative that I engage in adult conversation, I'm afraid I overdid it for awhile. Every time I could latch onto a listener, I talked a blue streak.
I began to understand why the woman who had been my room-mate in the hospital when my child was born seemed to be a compulsive talker. She had just given birth to her fourth child, and during our waking hours, she talked constantly. She was an intelligent person with a fascinating background, and while I found her conversation interesting, I longed for just a bit of silence during my hospital stay.
I regret now that I wasn't a more sympathetic listener. I know it is true that the person who is a good listener is bound to be popular and greatly admired for all who need and want someone to listen, even if we aren't saying anything important. an old Latin proverb tells us to , "Keep quiet and people will think you are a philosopher." On the other hand, they may think you are either a dullard or that you are sulking.
A happy medium is an individual matter. For me, it's sort of an equal division of my time to talking and to solitude.
By Olivene Godfrey
Being one who enjoys talking, and who may indeed be guilty of talking too much at times, I remembered recently an article I read many years ago in Life magazine on the subject of talking that I found both interesting and amusing.
The author, who admitted to being a compulsive talker, wrote of her attempts to find out what it's like to be completely silent. I laughed aloud when I read about the day she took a solitary hike up a mountain. Later, resting in the shade of a tree, she spied a lizard. "Hi Lizard, " she said, then clapping her brow in shame, as it was her second attempt that day in her vow to be silent. I could imagine myself speaking to the lizard as she did and her other attempts to discover the joys of silence.
While I confess that one of my favorite activities is engaging in conversation with interesting people, I also know the value of solitude. And lively conversation is so stimulating for me that I need the intervals of solitude to recover. I need the quiet times to think long thoughts, to rebuild my strength, to try to reach decisions after meditation.
But, too much solitude is not good for me. I discovered that during the years when my son was infant and a toddler. Living in a city where I knew few people, I spent almost all of my time with my child. I adored him and enjoyed caring for him and playing with him. But, when he about four-years-old, I realized that I was thinking, besides talking, on the level of the child. I was about like the woman who after being confined to her home with young children for several years attended an adult dinner party. To her dismay, she suddenly realized that she had told her dinner partner, "Now, you clean that plate good."
When I decided it was imperative that I engage in adult conversation, I'm afraid I overdid it for awhile. Every time I could latch onto a listener, I talked a blue streak.
I began to understand why the woman who had been my room-mate in the hospital when my child was born seemed to be a compulsive talker. She had just given birth to her fourth child, and during our waking hours, she talked constantly. She was an intelligent person with a fascinating background, and while I found her conversation interesting, I longed for just a bit of silence during my hospital stay.
I regret now that I wasn't a more sympathetic listener. I know it is true that the person who is a good listener is bound to be popular and greatly admired for all who need and want someone to listen, even if we aren't saying anything important. an old Latin proverb tells us to , "Keep quiet and people will think you are a philosopher." On the other hand, they may think you are either a dullard or that you are sulking.
A happy medium is an individual matter. For me, it's sort of an equal division of my time to talking and to solitude.
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