What happens in the moment of silence?

This is also the moment where I say: the bonfire was pretty awesome although at least 3 people cancelled at the last minute (complaints of the hottest day for a bike ride, not feeling well, and a similar reason). No worries, although it was sad that you weren’t there, it’s totally okay!

But I found myself blubbering about everything random possible. About whether people should eat a whole potato or cut it up. But I really wanted to know: when is it inappropriate to eat a whole potato?

I always find that in social events, I want things to happen in a certain way. I want to not only socialize with the guests, but to also prepare food, and organize appropriately so that the guests can find the food. Can’t lose face! But that day on the bonfire, sand blew everywhere, the fire hadn’t started. We should have bought a table. We should have planned better. But that’s always the way it works.

And so what I wanted to talk about: silence.

In the conversations with one other, I have practiced to savor silence. There’s always a moment that all of us feel awkward with the silence. Because the immediate reaction is the fear that we’re not good enough—not interesting enough, not social enough, and everything else like it, not a good enough friend.

I can tell when someone has extreme discomfort with silence when I allow it to settle. It sometimes happens when I don’t want to answer questions in depth anymore. Or that yes, I am not interested in particular in the subject at hand. It sometimes also happens when I feel attacked so instead I pull back. And I let myself savor the silence.

Sometimes it pauses. Sometimes it continues. Sometimes we stare at each other in the silence.

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