The Science of Silence

I come from a large family, seven children in all. In August, my siblings and spouses gathered at my brother’s house on the coast. Memories were recalled. Family circumstances were shared. We discussed contemporary issues ranging from politics and religion to the economy and sports. Lack of knowledge has never been a deterrent for us in expressing an opinion. Laughter was frequent. There were moments of shared grief. Words of encouragement were given for struggles without good answers.

And there were times when all fell quiet. Silence can be uncomfortable. This wasn’t. Instead, there was a feeling of shared appreciation of the moment. A sense of sweet belonging. A contentment built on a million memories of shared life and love. Peace despite each of us having no illusions about our stage of life or what may await us. We were just grateful for the eternal force that made us family. At least that’s how I felt.

While I assumed the contentment I experienced within the silence was shared, I can’t prove that. The best things in life are difficult to measure. Compared with the well-documented neurophysiological findings on negative emotions, much less is known about positive emotions. There’s hope. Recently, EEG studies have identified distinct brain topographical patterns in different frequency bands linked to various positive emotions like joy, serenity, and love.

I suppose I could just ask my siblings about their feelings. But that’s subjective. We’re admonished to place our trust in science. We live in a century of sensory clutter and rapid change so disorienting that many people can cope only by medicating themselves and hoping science will provide the answers. To be fair, science has answered many questions. Bears crap in the woods. The Pope has been confirmed to be Catholic. But still, important questions remain.

When bears hibernate, do they dream away the winter? In this age when we are told that science has explained the universe and answered all the big questions, it seems that we ought to know if bears dream. We lack this knowledge because those brave scientists who have ventured into the dens of bruins to study their brain activity with a compact, portable battery-powered electroencephalogram have never gotten further than shaving small spots on the sleeping subject’s scalp and attaching electrodes with a conductive paste. Before an adequate reading can be taken, there occurs violent mauling, dismemberment, or evisceration - or all three. Nothing good happens to the electroencephalogram machine, either.

This raises the obvious question, “What about worms?”

Recently, scientists discovered long, pale worms frozen in Arctic ice, where they had been in stasis for thousands of years. When thawed, these worms came back to life, as vigorous and inquiring as contemporary worms that had not suffered such an ordeal.

During those centuries, did the hibernating worms dream? What fascinating fantasies might they have experienced as they slept? Scientists are eager to understand, but they are hindered by the fact that the brains of these worms are so small that no electroencephalogram has yet been invented with electrodes so tiny that they can be securely attached where required. And then there is the problem of determining which end of the worm is the head, if either.

Our culture is probably less comfortable with silence due to technology. We used to write letters. It could be weeks or months to receive a reply. With email or text messages, we know the exact moment our message was read, and we’re frustrated if we don’t receive a response within 5 minutes.

Silence always tells a story, and it speaks volumes about the relationship. The quality of silence differs when it is intended as silent treatment or building walls, as opposed to the comfortable awareness of presence one has with a spouse or friends. It makes the same sound but serves a different purpose. It feels different in your gut.

Haragei is a Japanese concept of interpersonal communication. Literally translated, the term means “stomach art”. It emphasizes the ability to understand another person’s true intentions and feelings without relying on explicit words by reading subtle cues like body language, tone of voice, and silence to grasp the unspoken meaning.

Maybe that’s what I was feeling at our family gathering. Haragei. I just know it felt good. But there I go again, being subjective. As a scientist, I need to do better.

Next time my family gets together, I will bring my compact battery-powered EEG machine, which comes with tiny electrodes that will fit our family. I just hope I can figure out which end to attach it to.

Tim Powell MD