Silence is golden, it has been said. Who said that? Idk, maybe it was in the Torah or possibly some philosopher thought of it while he was sitting under a tree, thinking deep thoughts, munching on bread his wife baked as he ignored her, and sipping wine donated by grateful villagers eager to hear his next nugget of wisdom.
Ponderously, Phil the philosopher arose from his lotus position, shaking his robe free from breadcrumbs. He left his trash under the tree for less intelligent people to deal with. Majestically, he trod up the old wooden steps to the village square, his leather sandals making flappity noises that vexed him. He waited until enough of a crowd had gathered before he began to speak. They raised their faces, eager for information, the pitiful creatures. But he loved them, especially their donations.
As the group increased in size, they began to jabber amongst themselves because it was always exciting when Phil had a new piece of knowledge to bestow. What would he tell them this time? Would he impart a message from the gods about how to grow crops for better yields? A sign from the stars about coming storms to prepare for? They began to guess and wager…
“Silence!” Phil bellowed. “There is entirely too much noise in this village. Too much clattering, chattering, gossiping, moans in the night, slamming of doors, screams of terror, splashing in the river, on and on. I can’t even think straight! How am I to receive messages from above?”
People gasped and looked sad. Oh no! This was terrible. Poor Phil.
Phil continued, “Today, as I pondered all this annoyance, I realized that was in fact the message.”
Everyone was confused, for these were not bright people. What was the message? Had they missed it? They began to argue about what Phil had just said.
“Quiet!” he yelled. “Silence is golden.”
Ah! Silence is golden. Three simple words. This, they understood.
“From now on,” Phil said. “Everyone must strive to be much quieter, day and night, so we can all hear our thoughts more clearly. Well, so I can at least. You people probably don’t have many thoughts.”
A dog barked.
Phil smiled at his favorite villager. “You too, Harvard.”