True contact is found in silence

Black and white photo of a man and woman sitting under an umbrella; the woman leans on the man’s shoulder.

When I was an adolescent, time spent with my first girlfriend – a title very quickly rescinded – was as exhilarating as it was onerous. The cause of the former was straightforward, but that of the latter was specific to that juncture in my life: I felt that a beat of dead air was a solemn mark against me, and every moment must be filled with witty and memorable words. Before our meetings, I would tabulate, sometimes physically putting to paper, all the interesting, intriguing, titillating things I could mention. I treated hanging out like a state examination. You can imagine why she lunged at the first opportunity to become an ex.

But we remained – and remain – close friends, and some time after our ill-starred relationship ended, something indelible happened: we had our first real silence. Late in a balmy summer night, conversation extinguished itself and, for some reason, nothing else was said. I’ve had a lot of beautiful silences since then, but it remains the most poignant.

I was reminded of this experience by Emil Cioran, the brooding and sardonic Romanian French philosopher, who was actually capable of stringing together witty and memorable words. ‘True contact between beings,’ he wrote, ‘is established only by mute presence, by apparent non-communication, by that mysterious and wordless exchange which resembles inward prayer.’

Silences between people, of course, have all sorts of meanings, and Cioran is far from the only philosopher to write about silence. But here he incomparably evokes the strange intimacy that inheres in the best kinds of silence. Perhaps the next time you are fortunate enough to inhabit this kind of silence with someone important to you, you’ll think of ‘true contact’.

by Sam Dresser

FIND OUT MORE

The delightful Psyche Video ‘Le Mots de la Carpe’ by the French animator Lucrèce Andreae shows how silence can be path to love in the cacophony of speed-dating.

For more on Cioran’s minimalist approach to life, see the Psyche Idea ‘Learning to Be a Loser: A Philosopher’s Case for Doing Nothing’ (2023) by Costica Bradatan.


NOTE TO SELFETHICS

How will the future judge us?

Listen to this article

Daguerreotype of a seated man wearing an apron and a partially open shirt framed in a gold mat.

If we’re honest with ourselves, most of us can probably think of something we are doing, or declining to do (or supporting, or buying into) that is likely to strike people of the future as an obvious example of a moral failure. Human choices are sometimes badly at odds with human ideals and, in many cases, that seems to become clearer to everyone in the rearview mirror.

I got a fresh reminder of this while recently watching the PBS documentary series The American Revolution (2025). If you know anything about that revolution, it’s hard to miss the disconnect between its lauded ideals – including the assertion, in the Declaration of Independence, that ‘all men are created equal’ – and the slavery upheld by many of the nation’s founders.

The documentary also highlights a less-known detail about the Declaration. In a draft of the colonies’ complaints against the British crown, Thomas Jefferson, himself an ‘owner’ of people, blamed the king for the Atlantic slave trade and, incongruously, called it a ‘cruel war against human nature itself’.

What’s stuck with me in particular is the way the historian Annette Gordon-Reed then sums up Jefferson’s relationship to slavery. ‘From the beginning to the end, this institution bounded his life, even though he knew it was wrong,’ she says. ‘How could you know something is wrong and still do it? Well, that is the human question for all of us.’

For me, her remark is an invitation to reflect. Hopefully, for most of us, our current behaviours don’t include anything that will be as terrible to our descendants as enslavement is to us. But the excuses we might give for acting or not acting now are likely to seem much thinner to someone living 250 years from now. And that, I think, casts a brighter light on our choices.

by Matt Huston

FIND OUT MORE

In her article ‘Whose Independence?’ (2025) for The Atlantic, Annette Gordon-Reed tells the story of African American writers who, going back to the revolutionary era, challenged their country to recognise the implications of its own stated ideals.

The Aeon Essay ‘Moral Progress Is Annoying’ (2024) by Daniel Kelly and Evan Westra explores why even positive changes in moral standards often cause irritation and dismissiveness at first.


NOTE TO SELFEMOTION REGULATION

Finding solace in Murderbot

Listen to this article

A person wearing a futuristic robotic suit walking through a lush green forest.

A science fiction fan in my teens, I recently decided to dip my toes in the genre again. When I asked Claude for recommendations, it suggested the Murderbot Diaries (2017-), a book series by Martha Wells, about a half-robot, half-human ‘construct’ with a rich emotional life (maybe Claude was dropping me a hint?)

Murderbot is designed to be a SecUnit for protecting humans on space missions. It manages to deactivate its ‘governor module’ granting it the ability to make free choices. If you’re interested in the limits and ethics of machine intelligence, you’ll find the series compelling. But that’s not its only appeal, especially if you’re someone with non-optimal levels of angst and self-consciousness.

The novellas are told through the inner monologue of Murderbot. Its wry, detached observations about its own emotional and social discomforts can be hilarious and surprisingly relatable. On occasion, I’ve found myself emulating its narrative style in my own head, and it can be an odd comfort.

For example, you know that panicky feeling when someone expects you to open up? Murderbot describes one such instance in Book 1, All Systems Red: ‘I had cycled out of horrified that they wanted to talk to me about my feelings into grateful that she had ordered them not to.’

Murderbot is effectively modelling how to notice your own inner thoughts and feelings from a distance – similar to how an ACT therapist might coach you in ‘defusion’ with prompts such as: ‘So, what’s your mind telling you now?’

There is an irony in a fictional form of machine intelligence helping us to feel more normal – more human – about our own insecurities. But as Jason Sheehan put it so well in a review for NPR: ‘we are all a little bit Murderbot.’

by Christian Jarrett

FIND OUT MORE

Read an interview with the Murderbot author Martha Wells at Scientific American, covering personhood, neurodiversity, and how contemporary forms of AI compare with those depicted in her books.

For a simple way to create psychological distance from your thoughts and feelings, try this simple linguistic trick that was explained in a Psyche Idea by the social psychologist Ariana Orvell.


How I became more facially expressive

Listen to this article

A man in a hoodie on a phone walking past a wall with posters and graffiti-covered advertisements.

For most of my life I was not, I don’t think, a very facially expressive person. I’m ethnically Korean, and we tend not to move our faces too much (partly because it’s just the norm, along with a shared cultural concern that it encourages wrinkles). Even when telling a dramatic story, big expressions never felt natural to me, the way they seemed to be for others, and I’d wonder whether the restraint on my face was limiting my ability to connect with people.

It’s not an absurd idea. Research from 2024 concluded that being facially expressive is socially advantageous, suggesting it might lead others to like you more and see you as more agreeable. Another study found that expressiveness predicted how attractive people seemed to others.

My relationship to facial expressiveness started to change about three years ago, when I started learning American Sign Language. ASL is a language of the body. Individual signs provide a vocabulary, but much of the grammar and descriptive nuance comes from how you move your body and face. Suddenly, my stiff and muted facial expressions became a fluency issue, getting in the way of my legibility as a signer.

Signing ‘I like’, for example, communicates something far different when you do it with bright eyes and strong movements compared with signing it with a shrug and noncommittal expression. I’ve learned to make these distinctions clear across my face.

Over time, I’ve noticed a difference – I am more expressive now with everyone, not just when I’m signing. This, in turn, has made me feel more outgoing in conversation. I have a hunch that people now perceive me as friendlier.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling tired or shy, I’ll notice myself under-expressing, slipping back into my old ways. In those moments I remind myself that showing your feelings on your face is rewarding, and a way to invite greater understanding.

by Hannah Seo

FIND OUT MORE

The Psyche Idea ‘Speaking a Different Language Can Change How You Act and Feel’ (2024) by Antonella Gismundi explores how changing from one spoken language to another can affect speakers’ sense of self.

I wrote more about learning ASL in The New York Times Magazine in the article ‘How Sign Language Can Help Us All Be Better Communicators’ (2025), describing how the physicality of this tactile language and its grammar butted up against the instinct for precise language.


NOTE TO SELFPOETRY

Existential crisis? Try reading Wordsworth

Listen to this article

Portrait painting of a man in a thoughtful pose with hand on head wearing a dark coat and white cravat against a dark background.

William Wordsworth was just a few years younger than I am now when he wrote the ageless poem ‘Ode on Intimations of Immortality’ (1807). He laments the falling away of his childhood as it departs ever further into memory:

It is not now as it hath been of yore;–
Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day.
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

I too sense a receding past, as childish certainties are replaced by rather harrowing questions: what am I doing here? Is this it? What does my life mean? As I become increasingly aware of the finitude of my days, my desire for answers grows more urgent.

These sorts of questions can induce a sense of existential imbalance, even crisis. Two great American philosophers, William James and John Dewey, had crises of just this sort when their sense of purpose seemed to evaporate. And they both navigated their angst in a similar way.

For James, an episode of intense crisis was alleviated by poetry, when he read of: ‘Authentic tidings of invisible things … subsisting at the heart / Of endless agitation.’ It gave him a sense, he wrote, of freedom. For Dewey, relief came in the form of a full-blown epiphany, which he later gamely tried to articulate: ‘everything that’s here is here, and you can just lie back on it’. The poet who aided both philosophers? Wordsworth.

So I read his masterpiece, The Prelude (1850). He too describes finding moments of poetic lucidity that unburdened him of a certain human painfulness. When he climbed Mount Snowdon, he recognised – in a flash – that an impersonal God speaks through nature, that love is the fount of all that’s worthy, and that suffering is necessary for true creativity: pertinent answers to pertinent questions. Though mine still remain.

by Sam Dresser

FIND OUT MORE

On the Romantic (though German) generation of poets and thinkers, you could hardly do better than this Aeon Essay by Andrea Wulf, ‘The First Romantics’ (2022).

William James has been fortunate enough to find a brilliant expositor in John Kaag. His Aeon Essay ‘The Greatest Use of Life’ (2018) is a classic.

Explore more

Vintage photo of a group of women in white dresses lounging outdoors on the grass, with trees in the background.

In a journey through time I’ve seen the past imprinted on the present

Memory allows us to break free from chronological time, to extend ourselves beyond a single life to embrace earlier generations

by Vicky Grut

Painting of an elderly couple in 16th century attire, man in fur-lined coat and woman in white headdress on green background.
LOVE
9

There’s no good reason to love each other – and that’s a relief

Loving is an unreasonable decision (we are all extremely unpleasant little beasts) and that’s what allows it to survive

by John Kaag

Water swirling around a concrete structure in low light, creating a reflective and slightly turbulent surface.

Girl in the water

I’d saved someone from drowning. Had I done the right thing?

by James McConnachie

Photo of an ancient stone relief depicting four figures in draped garments with expressive faces, shown in close-up.

How do good conversations work? Philosophy has something to say

The idea of what makes for a successful conversation is always tricky, and has always been contested by philosophers

by Stephanie Ross

Abstract photo of a blurred person with clouds superimposed, creating a dreamlike, ethereal effect.

Only by taking leave of our senses can we plunge into reverie

By letting meaning loose, allowing it to graze, we can revel in reverie, free of the tether that commonsense keeps tight

by Rachel Genn

Photo of a person standing by a window watching a forest sunset, with warm light illuminating their silhouette.

The small pleasures in life can produce moments of rapture

Rapture is a delight that turns us both towards the object of attention and towards oneself, resulting in a sense of freedom

by Christopher Hamilton

A painting on a wall with a man in a suit standing in profile beside a doorway in an art gallery.

Embrace the monotony

A museum guard’s tale of long, slow hours on the job changed how I think about seemingly empty stretches of time

by Hannah Seo

Photo of two men hugging in a sombre moment at night one has a tear running down his face.

The hug from a stranger that helped me overcome my grief

Levinas explains how connecting with strangers helped me move through my grief to imagine new possibilities for the future

by Will Buckingham