a day of silence, public spaces, expectations

Yesterday I took a day of silence.
Well- not quite a whole day...
I woke up at 8 to get ready for a job interview in bath, and proceeded to mime my way through breakfast and destination questions by my roommates. Except a couple words spoken right after waking (hard to remember silence while in that state) I maintained silence until I got in my car to drive to Bath. Surprisingly, even that brief 2-hour window of silence seemed to make me more aware of speaking, and more inclined to choose my words with consideration and listen deeply. Thus the job interview went well- I did not feel nervous at any point, and enjoying our conversation about the teacher and students in an educational system that prizes attitude, hard work and effort far more than ability, intelligence or talent. I had several errands to run for multiple classes and stopped by cooks corner afterwards to get supplies for photo and more paint for the labyrinth. These were spaces where I did not want to inconvenience others by maintaining silence- it seemed far too difficult and frustrating for everyone, so i tried to maintain silence unless necessary.
When all of this was over, a little after noon, I settled into a more pure silence for the rest of the day. This was initially frustrating. I had just had this amazing job interview and I wanted to talk to my roommate and loved ones about it, ask for advice on how to proceed. Thursday night had been a little surreal (live folk music at the pub with the entire drunk hockey team participating and a broken bike) and I wanted to tell my roommate about it. Instead- I got home, arranged some flowers, made a post about my mindset the last couple of weeks, and decided to go outside and enjoy the (still somewhat weak) sun. I packed my backpack with Rumi poetry, Thich nat hanh, my old journal and a blanket and headed out to the quad.
While I don't want to say this was a mistake, it was very odd to be in a busy public space but silent. I felt periodically like I was doing ethnographic research on social life at Bowdoin College, relaxed in the sun, and isolated from everyone. I had sent out an e-mail about my day of silence to closer friends, and wore a button that said "I am taking a day of silence". Most people, however, didn't know how to handle this change in social roles, probably especially because I am a talkative person.
My biggest surprise was the questions: So many questions!
As soon as people found out about the silence- from my roomate, to good friends, to acquaintances- they would try and engage me in conversation. Usually by asking me questions like "what is this for?", "Have you broken it at all? How?" or various other things virtually impossible to answer without words. It felt like being trapped in a never-ending silent game of 20 questions. My roomate, excited about some romantic developments tried to talk to me about them to the mounting frustration of both of us. "That's a good sign right?" she asked as I nodded emphatically and tried not to pound my head against the wall. "Can we talk about this tomorrow morning?" I typed into my computer. Thus, being in public places, and interacting with people was extremely frustrating- it felt anti-mindful to be in those situations, despite what I learned about myself (I am not good at answering questions with merely 'yes' or 'no'). Several friends were very content to just talk at me, and some were happy to just sit in silence on the grass or read some poetry. Ironically, passing around the frisbee was the easiest. I threw with some friends for 30 minutes or so without needing to say anything- although I often verbalized sounds to show sympathy or approval for catches and misses. These noises were integral throughout the day- I never realized how much we DO communicate without words and the tone used in that form of expression is hugely meaningful- more so than the words used to verbalize the tone.
The best moments in my day of silence were mindful practices: Vinyasa yoga and walking the labyrinth. After a bit of frustration on the quad I was excited to go to yoga, release those negative feelings, and focus my attention on my body. The hour and a half class was wonderful, and left me feeling far more calm and comfortable. After dinner I went and walked the labyrinth, an experience that brought a lot of emotions close to the surface. I did not know the high school physics teacher well, or ever have a class with him, but he was a sweet and friendly man and had taught my sister. This week he died while glissading in the mountains, leaving behind a 3-year-old daughter and his wife. I haven't known how to react to this information. As I discovered with my grandmothers death in december: being far away always makes it harder for your emotions and body to understand the reality of loss. Walking the labyrinth and meditating in the center I began to think about my family and other loved ones and how tenuous our grasp on this world are. We are never secure in our happiness or our families against disaster. There could be a tsunami or an armed conflict or simply an accident that causes death and destruction and rocks my family to the core. This doesn't make me afraid- there will always be the unknown and unexpected, and there is little we can do to have a full life and mitigate those fears. However, it made me grateful. It made me appreciative. It made me want to give them love and health and safety, to be a positive force in thier lives.
I don't know how to characterize my day of silence- it definitely wasn't a simple experience and I didn't end my day in a state of 'zen'. However- it was a powerful tool of self-recognition helping me understanding my roles and relationships. It also brought me to another glimpse of that universal humanity that we all share- our deep similarities as people on this planet.

As annie dillard said in "This is the Life":
Say you have seen something. You have seen an ordinary bit of what is real, the infinite fabric of time that eternity shoots through, and time's soft-skinned people working and dying under slowly shifting stars. Then what?