Keeping Quiet by Pablo Neruda

An ode to the transcendent power of silence and stillness, Keeping Quiet finds Pablo Neruda imagining what might happen if, for an “exotic moment”, the world decided to pause.

When I first read the poem last summer, I could never have imagined that less than a year later we really would be forced to a halt. Neruda’s words feel perfectly suited for our current days of lockdown living, and some of the beauty that he imagines even did seem to manifest in a few ways towards the beginning. “Without rush, without engines”, we saw beautiful stories surface of humanity reconnecting in new ways, and of nature reclaiming its space as we were forced to step back.

But this time has also highlighted our crazed struggle to be still with ourselves. Forced to sit with our thoughts, our instinctive reaction is often to seek distractions. We reach for our phones to avoid facing silence; we seek new productive hobbies instead of investing in quiet time alone.

Neruda’s poem invites us to interrupt the momentum of busyness in our lives, which fuels “this sadness of never understanding ourselves.” It's a reminder – one we need way too often – that fully engaging in those (sometimes very angsty) moments of stillness and solitude allows us to replenish our energy and reconnect with ourselves. As Wendell Berry put it, those are the moments during which “one’s inner voices become audible [and] in consequence, one responds more clearly to other lives.” Rumi's poems are also flooded with wise advice on the subject – “Listen to silence It has so much to say,” he wrote, and “The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.”

The art of listening to silence in a world full of noise and commotion is probably the task of our lives --- and thank god for poetry, which so often brings us back on track.

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Keeping Quiet by Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth let’s not speak in any language, let’s stop for one second, and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment without rush, without engines, we would all be together in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea would not harm whales and the man gathering salt would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars, wars with gas, wars with fire, victory with no survivors, would put on clean clothes and walk about with their brothers in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused with total inactivity. Life is what it is about; I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves and of threatening ourselves with death. Perhaps the earth can teach us as when everything seems dead and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve and you keep quiet and I will go.

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