s is for silence

A silent weekend. No talking. Serenity. Peace. A place to hide.

When I first heard about the Silent Weekend in my Sign Language class, I thought it sounded like an amazing opportunity to experience something very unique. I would practice this new language I'm learning in a safe environment where people knew I was a beginner and wouldn’t judge or ridicule me. Just the opposite, they would respect me for trying.

The idea of silence was so inviting. I’ve been stressed with working a series of 15-hour days, and I thought this weekend would be my opportunity to kind of retreat within myself. There would be no pressure to talk to people, because I couldn’t. In fact, I could get kicked out of the conference if I was caught talking. I could be somewhat anonymous and just soak up the lessons from the back row of the classroom.

I’m such an idiot. Lucky for me, I was so, so wrong. The weekend was simply amazing. I spent the weekend with Christy and Terri, who's also in our class. It was an experience I never dreamed I would have. I learned so much, and I had my own share of personal epiphanies.

We arrived on Thursday night, attended an orientation and turned off our voices. (The sign for that looks like you’re turning a key on your vocal cords.) Instead of withdrawing into myself, I was forced to come out of my shell and communicate in a wholly different and somewhat more intense way.

At lunch on our first full day, Christy, never a shy one, walked right up to a group of cool kids from the University of Florida and, with her hands full, asked with her eyes and a tilt of her head if we could sit with them.

When you first meet people, you are a little on edge, or at least I am. I don’t want to say something stupid, talk too much, talk too little or in any way offend someone. That’s not easy when you’re self-conscious and silent. In communicating with someone by signing, you are forced to really concentrate on what people are saying, and you have to maintain eye contact. So, if you’d normally look away to hide a slight blush, you’re lost because you just missed half the story. And you look really rude and inconsiderate, too.

We wound up meeting Scott and Allyson. They were so fun, and we wound up hanging out with them all weekend. Because of the silent rule, it was way more interesting getting to know each other and a lot more challenging, too. It was also more rewarding.

Scott is a musician, and he shared some of his music with me. It’s personal, beautiful and reminds me of Incubus. Check out his MySpace page. Both Scott and Allyson were the kinds of people you want to learn about because they have cool interests, and I know they have good stories to share.

On the second day of classes, a guy came in late to the first class and sat next to me. He was sniffling loudly – you know that sound you make when you’re sick and swallowing snot? It was gross. People were even turning around to look at him. He was oblivious to our disgust, and continued to shift loudly in his chair, shuffle his papers, grunt and act somewhat indifferent to the fact that he was making all this noise.

It took me longer than it should to realize that he was deaf. Of course! He had no idea of the sounds he was making. He could have let out a sonic fart loud enough to make you think the shuttle crew was re-entering the Earth’s atmosphere, and he would have had no idea he broke the sound barrier.

I was not used to being around people who were deaf. It was a new experience to sit in a classroom and have someone’s cell phone go off or a dog growl without the presenter so much as blinking. And I guess I never really thought about how much hearing people consume themselves in making as little noise as possible. People get embarrassed when their chair squeaks or they burp out loud unexpectedly. I know it sounds silly, but it was eye-opening for me. For someone who’s all about communication and expressing herself, this was a weekend that changed my outlook and gave me a deeper perspective on the subject.

Thank you, Christy, for introducing me to this new passion in my life. I love sharing this with you, and I thank you for teaching me.

By the way, the staff at the Marriott in Tampa was exceptional. They all tried so hard to support everyone, and instead of getting exasperated, they seemed energized by the challenge of assisting 350 guests who wouldn't talk. I was impressed.