I’m reading Brian Doyle’s essays in his book, One Long River of Song.  I come to this, an exchange with his sister who is a nun and lives in a monastery.  He asks his sister questions about silence.

What did you do when you were silent?

I listened, she says. I listened really hard.

Did you make any noise at all?

Sometimes I found myself humming, she says, but it wasn’t any music I’d known before. Which is pretty interesting. Where does music come from that you never heard before?

Good question, I say.

And I found, she says, that it is relatively easy not to talk to other people, but much harder not to talk to animals. Isn’t that odd?  Why would that be?

Another good question, I say.