“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear, does it make a sound?" Many have pondered this question, and now I’m pondering a similar one.
Whenever I publish a new post to this newsletter, I wait. Silence is not golden to a writer. When we writers put our words out into the world, insecurity may amplify while we wait for feedback. In the initial silence before the first comment, it feels like the tree falling. Have my words made a sound?
I imagine myself with Rod Serling introducing my story before announcing I’ve entered The Twilight Zone:
Imagine you’re on stage and you’ve just performed. You did your best, gave it your all, and hope the audience felt something in response. But when you stand to take your bows, instead of applause, there’s silence. And you realize you’re alone in the theatre.
Initially, the theatre appears empty as you scan the surroundings. Then you notice a smattering of people. After a while, you hear the faint sound of scattered applause.
Ginni Simpson has entered The Twilight Zone.
This reminds me of a day when I was in 5th grade at Shenandoah Street School in Los Angeles. My class was leading the singing of The Star Spangle Banner, and our teacher chose me to stand at the microphone in front of my class and face all the students. The main two-story building loomed behind us and all students from kindergarten through sixth grade, gathered and stood in the quad surrounded on the left and back by classrooms housed in one-story buildings, and on the right, the cafeteria, styled like a small house, was alone. We were supposed to all sing together. Soon after I started, I realized my class wasn’t singing with me. I turned back towards them, gesturing wildly, my only way to tell them to join me. Not only did they remain silent, so did everyone else in the school. This had never happened before. Despite embarrassment infusing and heating my body, I continued singing alone. After I finished, the kids, teachers, and principal dispersed. I waited all day for someone to tell me how I sounded, but no one said anything.
The interval between posting and the first comment takes me back to that morning. It also reminds me of being at a party where I’ve just shared with a group in front of me, and instead of responding, they stare without speaking a word. Has this, or anything like it, ever happened to you?
I always hope my newsletter will touch something inside you. The initial silence after I post leaves me wondering until I see my first like or comment. I’m aware some people read but don’t share their reaction. Although I’d prefer you appreciate what I’ve written, silence is worse than anything you might choose to share. Silence leaves me with unresolved questions.
Ouch.
My goal in writing is to reach into your hearts and either teach new lessons you hadn’t thought about or bring forth lessons we’ve all learned. I want to convey what it means being a human traversing this remarkable, fascinating, challenging, and diverse life.
When you leave messages about how you experienced my words or topics you wish I’d write about, you help me create content that will benefit you, me, and other readers.
I want to learn as much from you as I hope you’re learning from me. I’d love it if my writing triggers memories and moves you deeper inside your experience of life. I hope you’ll find the courage to share so we can all grow into the best us possible.
Decades ago, I watched a dystopian satire written and directed by Terry Gilliam of Monty Python fame. Brazil starred Jonathan Pryce, Katherine Helmond, Robert DeNiro, and Bob Hoskins. Whenever Pryce’s character escaped his mind-numbing life, the song Brazil would play.
Brazil (sorry about the ads, but please wait for the music from the movie)
I recall DeNiro’s character saying, “We’re all in this together. We’re all in this together.”
We are all in this together and I invite you to express yourself by reaching out and letting me know about you and what meaning you’d like me to offer into your life. We will both learn and so will everyone who reads this page.
I’m listening.
This reminds me of being in endless piano recitals all my life and wondering if anyone (besides my parents) would like my performance. This culminated with my senior recital at the Chicago Conservatory—a 1 1/2 hour memorized solo performance complete with intermission—a prerequisite for graduating. I don’t think I breathed through the whole thing! And talk about insecurity—performing in front of my peers and teachers.
Well, I made it—and did receive compliments. But I felt like I aged 50 years in the process!
Hi, Ginni~
It's your most loquatious fan, Catherine. I'm sure you've noticed, I have no qualms about writing copious amounts of words on-line, but I have to tell you something: I've pretty much stopped posting my comments on the three Substack writers I subscribe to who have zillions of followers. I often get "likes" which I like! But there are already 300-700 posts before I even get outta bed in the morning, since I'm on the western-most part of the USA. And what I've seen lately is problematic: people arguing with one another, and some saying very uncharitable remarks.
But YOUR column is an invitation to write a response! Especially for us seniors. Here's what I think is the problem. Most folks nowadays read on little itty bitty i-phones, or the even tinier flip phones. And writing is not easy on those things! I have a desktop computer with a nice wide monitor, and a good keyboard, so the fingers just fly along. Sometime TOO much, that's for sure!
What happened at the grade school was egregiously wrong! I probably would have left the stage mid-anthem crying!
So, don't take it personally when you don't get a lot of feedback. It's our crazy world. Even my best friends only write a very short note when they do respond. Most will call back instead of using their phones to e-mail. I had to move inland due to finances and miss my long-time friends terribly. I have only ONE friend who corresponds with me bi-weekly and sends me clippings from the hometown newspaper. I love writing actual letters back! (She's more of a technophobe that me!)
OK, one more thing: our CA schools are now going to be once again teaching cursive writing! How can a person write a letter without knowing cursive? A whole generation missed out on cursive, and it shows on their signatures--an undecipherable scribble at best.
Another thought--many folks these days do not want to share anything PERSONAL. They will tell about their fabulous vacations on Facebook (I do not do Facebook.) But even the Substack respondents write about POLITICS, never anything personal! Thanks for putting up with me!