A Silent Mind – Boon or Bane?

Growing up, I found happiness in my imaginary world. These self-created fantasies provided me with moments of positivity and fulfillment. In my mind, I could laugh and crack jokes with friends or people I wished to befriend. I often played the hero, saving others from goons or rescuing them from drowning. Little did I know that this was an escape mechanism. While it may be okay temporarily, it can be a cry for help in the long run. I always had a racing mind. When I shared this with my older cousins, they reassured me that it was normal—that it was human. However, when my racing thoughts began to interfere with my sleep, I sought ways to help myself. I would strain to block out my thoughts, imagining using a duster to wipe away the images cluttering my mind. Sometimes, the thoughts were negative, like the fear of losing a loved one, which would bring me to tears. Other times, a song would loop endlessly in my mind, no matter how hard I tried to stop it. As a result, I lost interest in music; I preferred background sounds as long as I didn’t focus too much on the lyrics. It was indeed a cry for help, but mental health was a taboo topic back then.

 I always longed for a quiet state of mind—an ability to gaze into the distance without battling racing thoughts and to find peace in the moment. When I discovered mindfulness classes, I realized how challenging something seemingly simple could be. Being present in the moment, noticing everything around you, and gently bringing your mind back when it drifts away is akin to meditation. I explored various methods, including yoga focused on breathing and seeking medical help for my sleep issues. Eventually, I managed to step out of my imaginary world and find joy in the real one. But is that truly a boon or a bane?

Just as the grass appears greener on the other side, a silent mind can have its downsides. You might feel either peaceful or empty; serene or vacant. The term ‘vacant’ takes on an interesting meaning when applied to a person—it suggests a lack of intelligence or interest. This distinction reminds me of the difference between being unattached and detached. In spiritual terms, being unattached is about being open to experiences while also being ready to let them go when the time comes. Life’s pleasures are blessings to be appreciated but are not the ultimate purpose. For me, a silent mind, with emotions in check and a willingness to absorb thoughts that nourish the brain or soul, is blissful. However, if you find yourself devoid of hope, lacking interest in anything, and unable to feel much, it can become a bane.

Many philosophies and religions assert that a silent mind is a state of inner calm that helps you access deeper truths. Ludwig Wittgenstein famously stated, “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent,” suggesting that certain truths lie beyond language and can only be accessed through silence. Introverts often find joy in their thoughts more than in social pleasures, while powerful ideas can bring more satisfaction than physical experiences. René Descartes asserted, “I think, therefore I am,” emphasizing the certainty of existence through consciousness.

 I had always considered myself an introvert, yet there were moments when I was fully present and quite vocal. I refer to this as a binary system—either I was fully engaged (1) or completely withdrawn (0), with nothing in between. One thing is certain: an empty mind should be treated like an empty vessel. It can remain devoid of emotions or desires, leading to depression, or it can become an opportunity to delve deeper into your consciousness, fill yourself with wisdom, accept who you are, and discover what truly brings you happiness. It’s a chance to wipe the slate clean—an opportunity many adults don’t often have—to find themselves. Whether that means seeking happiness in worldly pleasures, physical sensations, philosophy, or spirituality, one can be honest with oneself and continue to grow.

As Alan Watts noted, most humans are constantly straining to see and hear, a conditioning we receive from an early age. I often find myself interrupting others to express my thoughts before they slip away. While I have the patience to listen, I fear losing the moment and the impact of my statement. However, speaking up might make me seem intelligent or amusing, while listening cultivates empathy and relatability. In closing, I’d like to share a quote from Lama Thubten Yeshe: “At certain times, a silent mind is very important, but ‘silent’ does not mean closed. The silent mind is an alert, awakened mind; a mind seeking the nature of reality.”