The Consolation of Communication

The Consolation of Communication

    The silence was everywhere. Pressing in on every side, it surrounded me, pushing in on my ears, penetrating into my mind. It was deafening, crushing, suffocating. And the pain… it was immense. It joined with the silence, pounding into my consciousness. There was no escape from it... no outlet for it… no words to express the twisting feelings that swarmed around inside. There was no understanding to comprehend it, not even thought to reason out why there was hurt. There was only the roaring silence and the pain, always swirling and shifting around my mind, always drowning out every other sensation. But then, suddenly, a sound broke through all the soundless noise, something I had not heard in a long time. It came crashing through the raging storm and, abruptly, all of it was shattered by a word. A single word.

   “Hello.”

    The word rang through my entire being, stunning me. I suddenly remembered that I could look around, so I moved my eyes that had been stationary so long and scanned my surroundings. I was sitting on my bed in my room with all the power turned off, the only light source the sunlight filtering in through the closed blinds of my window, casting a dull, white half-light on all the walls. I felt as if I were in the process of being woken up from a deep and restless sleep, but my mind, though still sluggish as it was, knew that I had not been sleeping. I struggled to comprehend the nondescript and ordinary features I saw around me, looking for the source of the voice I so fearfully craved to hear again. I saw no one. I didn’t understand. Did I imagine it? I couldn’t have, I barely even remembered what words sounded like. How could I have imagined-up a voice that sounded so real? I looked back down at my sheets and began to resign myself to the fact that I was still alone, when suddenly the soft-spoken male voice trumpeted through the air once more, causing my head to whip around again in search.

“Hello.”

I still saw no one, but I knew that I could not have imagined it this time. Tentatively, I tried to remember how to make words come out of my own mouth. The scratchy, hoarse whisper that escaped my lips was barely recognizable as English, but the sound was there nonetheless, “Hello?”

It was quiet for a moment, then the voice came reverberating back through the air again, “Hello Peyton, it’s good to hear from you. I was a bit worried when you didn’t respond the first time. I’m glad to see you still remember the way to speak, even if your tongue and ears have become a bit unpracticed from lack of use. We’ve been separated for a long time, but I assumed when you first stepped away it would only be for a brief hiatus and then you would snap back to your senses and return… but you stayed away and I watched your state deteriorate more and more until at last I could remain silent no longer. I knew I must intervene and bring back to your remembrance the things that you once knew so well. You must revive the part of yourself that you have forgotten.”

I sat in bewilderment and confusion, not understanding. The voice sounded so familiar, but my lethargic mind could not remember where I knew it from. No matter how hard I looked I still saw no source for it, and that just added to my overall befuddlement. I concentrated and forced the hoarse whisper out of my throat again, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Who… where are you and why can’t I see you?”

The voice said nothing for a few seconds and I began to wonder if I had somehow offended it, but then it spoke again, and it sounded as if it was right in front my face, “I hoped that hearing me would bring back a few memories, maybe even just a whisper or a glimpse of one… do you really not recognize me?”

I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard a hint of sadness in the voice as it asked me the question. Wait… I had heard the sadness in the tone, not just the words. It had been so long since I had contemplated emotions or feelings, not to mention words and thoughts in general. I unexpectedly felt a feeling in the back of my mind, almost like a fog that I hadn’t even noticed starting to clear away. Fragments of images and feelings started flashing through the fog into my mind, but they were muddled and confused. I knew that I knew them, but I couldn’t remember how I knew them. I spoke up again, my words slightly stronger this time, “I… you sound familiar… but I can’t remember how or why. Who are you?”

The sadness seemed to be replaced by an almost excitement-like tone in the voice as it spoke, “Yes, that’s it! I knew you weren’t too far. Somewhere in your head you still have a recollection of who I am and who you are. We just need to help it come out. Come on, think. Listen to my voice. Talk to me. Remember. You know me.”

I stared hard at the space in front of me, trying to see if I was just missing something, but I still could not see any person or thing out of which the voice could be coming. The flashes of memory in my mind were becoming more frequent now, and they were starting to fit together into images: a conversation with a friend from years ago here, a moment of deep introspection there, a long prayer to God in one picture, a group text full of jokes and nonsense in another. I replied, “I’m starting to remember a bit more now… I remember you were once very familiar to me. There are good memories, and not so good ones.” I paused, struggling to remember as much as I could from the snapshots, then continued, “You were in every one of these memories, why can’t I remember what you look like?”

The voice replied with an encouraging tone, “Good job Peyton, you’re getting there! Once you remember who I am, I think you’ll understand a bit better why I came. And as for what I look like, you once knew this too, but I will help you along. Think about what you’re seeing in the memories. You do remember what I look like. I don’t have merely one form or appearance, I come in a lot of different ways. I am a conversation you have with someone else. I am the thoughts you think when you reason with yourself. I can be a connection to God when you feel like He’s gone. I can be a jumble of phrases in a poem or a song.” The voice paused and then continued with a hint of amusement, “I can also rhyme a bit, when I feel like it. But I can be nonsense texts on your phone or the words on the page of a book. I can come in speech or in silence or in music. I can be seen, heard, felt, and even smelled. Basically, my forms are as many and varied as the people that so often use them. You used to use me too, all the time, both in public and private moments. Have you pieced it together yet?”

Immediately, all the memories in my head started flashing rapid-fire in my thoughts and I finally remembered who was speaking to me. “I do remember you! You were with me every time I talked to a friend or to God or to myself in front of the bathroom mirror… which I don’t do that often. You’re Communication!”

The voice replied with satisfaction, “Great job! Yes, I am Communication, or whatever you choose to call me. Nothing more and nothing less. I bridge the gaps between people with others and themselves, I am the means by which people learn new things, I am the way that ideas get passed from one person to another, and I am the method that is used to solve problems and help men and women understand and relate to each other,” another pause, and then the amused tone came back, “and I know exactly how often you talk to yourself in the bathroom mirror.”

I felt a laugh rise in my chest and escape from my throat—something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I looked at the empty space in front of me where the disembodied voice of Communication was originating, “Yes, I suppose you do.” The laughter had felt wonderful and the curiosity I felt as I wondered why Communication was here felt fantastic too. It just felt great to actually feel something. I continued, “So why exactly did you come? I’ve been around you a lot before, but you’ve never actually spoken to me yourself like this. What caused you to come here and talk to me?”

Communication spoke to me again, this time with a splash of seriousness in the color of his voice, “Ahhh, yes. You remember me now, so surely you must have a better idea of why I’m here. I came because you needed me. Awhile ago, you fell into a process of slowly closing off your connection to me. It wasn’t an intentional action, you didn’t mean to cut yourself off, but that’s what the end result was. It all began when you started cutting short the most important communication you can ever have with anyone, your communication with your Lord.”

The words stunned me as they pierced my ears and cut straight to my heart. I looked down at my hands folded in my lap and tried to comprehend the magnitude of what I was hearing. I spoke with my head still facing my hands, “What do you mean? How did this happen? I know I’ve been kind of secluded recently, but surely it isn’t that bad. I mean… I talk to people… sometimes.”

Even though there was no face to see, I could almost feel Communication’s eyes looking at me as he spoke with both sympathy and firmness infused into his voice, “Peyton, I know you recognize the truth of what I’m saying. You may talk to people on occasion when you have to, but you don’t really communicate with them. You don’t share anything of worth or value and you don’t come away with anything either. You know that you haven’t been yourself lately. Like I said, you didn’t do it intentionally, but you began cutting short your time with God. You would be so busy in the day that you wouldn’t make time for Him, and when night came you would be so tired that you may start a prayer, but you’d fall asleep before you finished it. It started small, you realized that you wanted more and you wanted to change it, but you allowed it to keep happening and as a result, it kept growing until eventually you didn’t pay much thought to the fact that you were doing it. Communication is a two way street, it goes and comes, and eventually you weren’t doing much of either with God. You ceased to pray and to read His word to hear Him speak to you. And once you lost your most important communication to the One who gives life meaning, everything else started slipping and you found things less and less interesting until eventually you didn’t see the meaning in anything. Once the most important communication was severed, your communication with everyone else withered away as well.”

I stared in shock at my hands, soaking in everything he had said. With dawning horror, I knew that he was right. I felt tears run down my face and splash onto my lap as I struggled to think of something to say, but try as I might I was speechless, unable to think of anything to say in response to the nightmare that had just been revealed to me. But Communication apparently knew what my lack of a reply meant and I suddenly felt a comforting hand on my shoulder. The contact spoke more reassurance than many words could in that moment and I just sat there and let my thoughts continue to absorb the reality I found myself in. He spoke again, this time with gentleness filling the main timbre of his words.

“You’ve been in pain and isolation for so long, you just didn’t realize it because with it came the numbness that made your mind so sluggish and uncomprehending. You see, communication is more than just having a conversation with someone; more than writing down words in a book or a letter; more than sending an email or a text to someone; more than being with someone or touching them or listening to them. Communication is a connection. It’s speaking to someone else, hearing them when they speak. It’s imparting your thoughts and feelings and ideas to someone else, and receiving the same from another. Communication is when you think and reason out concepts inside of yourself using things that you have learned. It’s when you make a genuine connection with someone and share in your life and existence with them. Although some use this connection as a conduit to pass evil things, communication was never intended for that purpose and it can be so much more. It is worthwhile and can be very beautiful. And the most important thing communication does… it is how we connect to our God, and how our God connects with and communicates His love to us, even when we don’t feel like we can see it.”

I took a deep breath and looked up from my tear stained sheets back in the direction of Communication’s disembodied voice. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I could almost make out a face looking back at me from the familiar spot where my eyes had landed. The face’s features weren’t concrete, but they appeared to be just a glimmer, a form that might at any second change, and I was sure that the face would probably look different for each individual who got the chance to recognize it for what it really was. In a voice stronger than any I had spoken in ages, I looked into the lucid eyes and responded with the only words I could think of, “Thank you.”

The hand on my shoulder gave a fond squeeze as a smile spread across the face. “You’re welcome,” he said. “I look forward to our future time together and I’ll see you in front of the bathroom mirror.”