"Silence"
There is a kind of silence that breathes. It holds in the world like the struggling, the dying, those trapped in the depths of the murky water below. There is a kind of silence that spreads thought, and bitterness, anger, and resentment. There is a kind of silence that speaks a thousand volumes. We speak nothing through the action of silence, and yet in silence we can hear everything. Not sounding out, not resounding, an audible negligence, an impaired voice and vocal chords; like a choir of the yet to be born, or the already dead as they are washed over by time.
In courageous silence…
We sit in the waiting room, hoping against all odds that a solution will come, wishing we could somehow go back, take back actions. Quietly paused, poised to strike, our animal instincts meander the cortex, finding action in somehow doing nothing. “I need to figure this out, I need to think this out, I need to…”, and so in the moment we go the way of god, pointed towards our deity, looking for a hope, creating a dream, begging a prayer for something that can be achieved in a moment of true and final silence. We look to understand and recognize that we are not in control. Here we are, you and I, just beings in the cosmic silence. This abyss of space-time is both tragedy and comedy. Our inactions and actions are both the fodder for the flame, and at the same time inconsequential.
In abysmal silence…
There is a story about the inner self, the inner demon, and in sobriety it goes something like this. There is a sleeping tiger within us. At first it is small, almost comforting, and it is quiet and calm. The animal is fierce, but at times we believe it to be trainable, and perhaps we contrive that it is a bit protective of its master. But things eventually change, and what was once loving and kind, what once protected the master has now learned to be free, and its wants to be of its own dominion. This creature transforms, and the beast that remains takes root in the hiding silence behind the stillness and peace of the obvious. With this trick played, it is given a way and room to breathe, it takes to now hiding in plain sight, and therefore we don’t confront it. Out there in the mist and fog, in the darkness of night and cover, our kind of people allow it to continue to grow, until one day it takes back that silence we freely gave. It takes back the owner, the body, the being, the host that it always had.
In miraculous silence….
There is a kind of silence that gives a warm heart, a soft spoken sense, a smile. In this silence we watch the birth of eyes being wide open, of mouths being shut, and of ears listening. They say that you need to take the cotton out of your ears and put it in your mouth if you want to learn. In sweet surrender we embrace that silence like it is a new medicine. On day one you know that it is a new beginning. Silence, finally a real quieting of the mind, as the brain releases its own chemical cocktails into being. Flowers opening, laughter in a memory, dreams and meditation about right now, hugs without words, a kiss that last forever with the one you truly love more than anything else. There are times when waiting for the answer is a good silence, as in when she asks you “do want to get married?”
In pensive silence….
When I die, will there finally be silence? Night after night, day after day, minute to minute, in the form of seconds, in the ever waking and abruptness of the world we fall over ourselves with voice in hand like a trowel or shovel. The human story is alive. We dig with our words, our thoughts in written and verbal craft, meanings confused, ideas disarranged as we vomit onto the scene a platitude of realities which seem to be crafted in our own silence, our own minds. Does anyone else do this, does anyone else recognize that this is happening? Does anyone pause to think? Oh how I wish I could have some advice and careful direction on this thing called silence...
In dying silence….
When the silence of the mind comes into being, and the last thought arises to my head, will I finally be open to the god of silence? When the hounds of humanity in the background fade away leaving behind only the basic electrical sparks of synapses and neurons, will I know what I was before birth? In this moment, in these last fleeting beats of consciousness, will I finally understand the importance of silence?
