A function of silence may be to teach continuity… By refraining from the piston-like back-and-forth of speech production (or sometimes like a hammer – force directed out), we can retrieve realization that we are work very hard doing something that has already been done.
Speech modifies our environment, and establishes us in it… But the environment is in very basic ways already complete, and we’re already where we are (knocking and knocking; there is no door).
Living in time, endless positioning and repositioning is necessary to maintain our movement along a line; and if a rock is about to fall on somebody’s head, we’d be wrong not to say and do something about it. But we operate in continuity with accident, not as stable monitors.
Rather than accepting making-and-taking as our urgent purpose (the drive to complete the universe), we stop to consider ourselves as extending into incompleteness from completeness.
First, we’re still. We’re already said.