Silence. I fear it and look forward to it, often, for the same reason. I hear something speak to me, in the silence. I don’t know who addresses me, but I know that if I’m truly silent, truth will come forth, not always in words, sometimes in images, dreams, or sensations, feelings that transport me, that install me in a reality like, but profoundly different, from this one. Silence can be pregnant, full like an electricity storm about to break, or empty. I have been stripped down by the silence, and lifted up. I have come to respect silence, to rely on it, and to be guided by it. Yet, even in this inquiry, a paean to the power of silence, I must admit, that true silence contains something that isn’t just the absence of noise.
Silence. It is enigmatic, opening me to the moment, or denying me any kind of certainty, stretching me until I fall into the limitless darkness. I lost silence for awhile, when I lived in the suburbs, and was surrounded by the man-made sounds of a crowded life, then was reduced to tears, when on a hike, I stumbled into the silence of a distant vale. I missed being unhinged by the unfathomable. I was somehow enlivened by silence.
Silence. It is winter, the time of “Silent Night,” a moment when it is supposed to be quiet. Instead the holiday frenzy is everywhere, friends and family gather noisily together. I once complained to a spouse who made each Christmas an event of light, green bows, song, and holiday hoopla, that I wanted this time of year to be quiet and a spiritual retreat. Watch out what you wish for! The silence seems to be laughing, I don’t know if it is at me, or with me. I am here in the silence, experiencing Christmas, not so much alone, but in some kind of solitude. I have come, this season, this moment, to be in the silence.
Silence. It beguiles and overwhelms me. I want these silent moments, when the condition of my shy soul becomes somewhat more evident, the terrifying times when I am as likely to find that I’ve been dishonest with myself, and others, and created a heart-wrenching mess, then to find real peace, trust in my being. I need the silence to be honest with myself, to know anything. I’m scared of the silence because it is so truthful. It calms me just long enough to provide me with a glimpse of what is real. It has taken me a long time to develop a tolerance for what silence can do for me. I come into the presence of silence, humbly aware that I am passing through, awkwardly at that, and only the silence persists.
I am also taken with interpersonal silences. I never know what is going on. I feel things happening when nothing is happening. I love shared silences, dwelling with another in the unknown. The moment might just be shared social awkwardness, or it might be the presence of something so huge and speechless that I will be bound forever to this being because we both felt something stupendous pass us by. The latter happens much more rarely than the former, but each time an interpersonal silence occurs, I am reminded that some mystery frequents the space between us. When silence with another comes, I am less lonely in this vast Universe.
Silence has bound me to groups of people. I have felt many forms of it. There has been the impatient and anxious silence that proceeds getting started, the cold and distant silence of boundaries crossed, awkwardly, sometimes heedlessly, and the profound silence that accompanies a shared discovery of our mutual vulnerability/strength. These episodes never fail to remind me how uncertain is our lot and how basically heroic most of us are. I can go on, I gain access to some utterly human stockpile of strength, of desire, and I am able to face the next challenge, because of shared silences.
I’d like to be as silent inside as I sometimes am outside. The silence has helped me find a measure of internal quietude, a small amount of confidence, just enough to face the uncertainties of the day. In this season silence is extolled, remembered for the generative thing it is. But to me, silence is a year-round phenonema that reminds me how small I am, and how much the Universe wants me.
I would guess you are wanted too! Quietly though.
l/d
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I have also created a blog for the elder’s salon, which has some good pieces in it (including mine). See it at elderssalon.blogspot.com
I have also added a link. I don’t usually recommend websites but I have long felt that we (society) needed a vision of a future worth having and this short film points in that direction, Check it out http://www.ted.com/talks/nic_marks_the_happy_planet_index.html?utm_source=newsletter_weekly_2010-08-31&utm_campaign=newsletter_weekly&utm_medium=email
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