The quiet guy chronicles#1: participation

Growing up, I was always content to be a quiet observer. I’m reminded of the time my family went to Disneyland. While my brothers wanted to go on all the thrilling rides, I was far more content going to the interactive experiences instead. I can still remember the stench of having stitch burp behind you on the Lilo and Stitch ride, and the room with the spinning compartments that told the history of Disney. Thrills never felt like they were worth the wait, but I always had an affinity for things that were “interesting.” Even now, I would much prefer to sit silently in a movie theater than go speeding down the highway or go to a club with loud music. 

It brings up an interesting question: how much participation is good for a man? It would appear as though I’m content to show up and observe, but is that enough? I’m always reminded of the quote in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, where one of the gargoyles tells Quasimodo that “life is not a spectator sport. If watching is all you are going to do, then you are going to watch your life go by without you.” I fear this may come true with every passing day. Often I find myself caught between what is satisfying to me and what I feel I ought to do in order to live a life free of regret. If I shut my eyes and find a temporary contentment, will it steer me wrong? Will my power of silent observation lead me to an inner decay as all other comforts have? Could this become a case in which too much of a good thing becomes a bad thing? I’m not certain at this point. 

We live in an extroverted world. It seems as though being outgoing is the expectation, the norm. If you sit in a room silently, it makes people uncomfortable. If you aren’t talking loud and clear for all to hear, you get weird looks and are told you should talk more and talk louder! What if a moment of silence is a great thing? What if being quiet for a little while isn’t so bad? It doesn’t make sense to many, but there are so many things to learn about a person outside of what they are saying. I can learn far more about a person from how they behave when they aren’t focused on me than when I try to pick their brains about something. It’s true that being able to have conversations, even the shallow small-talk, is important, but when we are talking to fill the terrifying void of silence, it all becomes mindless chatter. 

In plainer terms, what I am trying to say is that I’m often confused about what a “proper” quiet guy looks like. What a proper “me” looks like. Because although I prefer to remain quiet, I have a strong set of vocal cords at the ready when I need them. My voice is like a weapon in my arsenal: I know how to use it, but it isn’t my favorite one. I have often found that silence has a volume of its own. If I am in the right crowd, people will notice the silence and hand me the mic from time to time. But is it right to rely on other people’s charity? The question at stake, here, is whether or not it is fair to simply claim that I am listening without participating. Could I use this line of reasoning as an excuse to be selfish and not participate because I “don’t feel like it.” I suppose this is a fair question. After all, the difference between dozing off and listening intently isn’t always noticeable. But, at the same time, the only real difference between an insincere talker and an insincere listener is simply the fact that one might prove easier to read than the other. A man holding a vibrant conversation with his wife can just as easily prove he was listening as the man who sat quietly at the table, observing her way of being. I think it takes a degree of faith and communication to establish an understanding of people’s patterns. At first the wife has to trust that her husband is listening, rather than staring off into space daydreaming about the superbowl. But once they develop a rhythm, she can tell when he is listening and when he isn’t, based on the differences in his behavior. It’s all a matter of honest communication and time spent learning about each other.

I think quiet people are swimming a little more upstream because being quiet isn’t the norm. We already have a certain way we are supposed to behave, and that way involves spending a little more of our hard-earned energy. If we show up to the table with a quiet demeanor and say very little, people see us as rude or unfriendly. The problem is that two ways of doing things are colliding: the “extrovert” wants to get more information from someone by talking to them, and the “introvert” gets it by noticing how someone is acting. (I am using the words “introvert,” and “extrovert” loosely to represent the two types of people. Calling them “quiet,” and “loud” seems rude and off-putting.) Thus, to the extrovert, the introvert is refusing to provide the information needed to get to know them. And, to the introvert, the extrovert is too busy talking to let us learn about them. It’s a frustrating lose-lose game. So, what do we do? I say we compromise. The introvert should learn to dance the dance of conversation, as painful as it may be, simply for the sake of appeasing the extrovert for a time. As the conversation dies down, the extrovert should learn to be calm and let the conversation die naturally without keeping it on life support. I believe this compromise, although a bit unpleasant for everyone, may yield positive results in the long run. For when the introvert is able to have interactions that don’t leave him utterly smothered, he may begin to reach back, making the effort for the extrovert as he finds him less overwhelming to interact with. The extrovert, as well, may begin to learn that the introvert cares more than he initially thought, but simply doesn’t have the same means of expressing it. 

But back to my original question of how much I should be participating, what conclusion have I decided to draw? It would appear, to me, as though a lack of desire to participate would come across as ingenuine and therefore counterproductive. However, a purely selfish drive to act only as I wish would also prove counter-productive. The question, therefore, arises: if one truly loves others and is truly as interested in another as they say, would they not wind up compromising a little to show their love for another? In other words, if I am truly as interested in others as I claim, wouldn’t I wind up bending my back just a little to help them see how much I care? Perhaps if I put listening first, interesting interaction will follow. After all, if I redirect the conversation back onto them, I won’t truly be doing much talking, but instead merely listening. And what’s the difference between that and listening to them dialogue with someone else in the room? The only difference is that people start to know me personally, and see how much I care about them. 

All these and more are thoughts to consider. What’s today’s takeaway? Focus on listening. We often are quick to speak, only listening because we want to figure out what we are going to say next. I’m not going to judge whether it’s good or bad, it’s simply a fact. We are often focused on ourselves in more ways than we realize. The fear that often arises when putting listening first is that this will leave us with nothing to say. It’s actually the opposite! When we focus on listening first, we have a better understanding of the conversation and what is being said. This, in turn, will give us something even more relevant to say in response.

Listening does not always mean you are pulling a monologue out of someone. It simply means that you are paying more attention to them than yourself. A conversation is no longer about what you can get from them, but about what you can offer them. It’s no longer about you venting your baggage, but how you can use your experiences to relate to someone else. Sure, there is still a time and a place to vent, but when you put listening first, you can control the impulse, and let loose at the right time. 

I hope this has benefitted you in some way. Often our greatest impact comes from letting others see our struggles, realizing that we all have the same ones. I pray your day is blessed and your heart remains pure.

Until next time

May Peace be your guide.