Whispering Pakistani Psychiatrist

Many years ago, I was employed at an adolescent for-profit psychiatric hospital. While working there I met a whispering Pakistani psychiatrist. I was quite suspicious of him at first. When he came on to my unit he would ask us about his patients so quietly that we could barely hear him.

I could never understand why his volume did not change. If the kids were in group therapy in another room, he spoke softly. If they were outside, he spoke softly. If they were in the dayroom running and playing, he still spoke softly. If the unit was so loud that he could not be heard, he would leave and come back at a different time.

One day, after I knew him better, I asked him why he always used such a soft voice. He told me that in his country the volume of your voice was indicative of your social status. The louder your voice, the lower your status, and the softer your voice, the higher your status. He said that status, not volume, was what gave weight to the things you said.

I was intrigued. I began thinking about how I need to pay attention to the still small voice when I pray. You know the one I am talking about don’t you? It’s the one that goes away if my life is too busy to pay attention to it. It's the one that never forces itself on me by yelling and screaming. It is the one whose volume seldom changes. I realized at that time why there are times when I need to be quiet and still.

Lately, I have thought that this whispering mess is a good thing. To be honest, I can scarcely think of something scarier than a God that yells at me.

Oh, I am not saying that God is a whispering Pakistani psychiatrist.