Silence

 

I have always enjoyed sitting alone in the sanctuary of a church or some holy place or nature, attuned to the energy of the place, connecting to the world at large in my own good time... until someone speaks... interrupting my silent word-less conversation with the universe. Most people I have been close to over a lifetime have affiliated with one set of religious doctrines or another, finding value in fellowship and listening again and again to the “word” as recorded by our ancestors in some holy book or other, and reminded to us over and over by some well-intentioned preacher, priest, imam, or rabbi. But not me.

In speaking of the spirit, religious adherents speak of it out of belief in its existence, supported by a faith in the recorded stories from antiquity that have been translated, reliterated, and interpreted by countless believers over time with mixed intentions. I have always questioned the need for belief in or interpretation of the old stories or any kind of human intermediary to show me the way when I can directly turn to the source – spirit itself – at any time.

When I speak of spirit, it is not out of belief, but out of experiencing it for myself through direct encounters. I don't see it as any sort of loving father who watches over us from above. For me, spirit is something much more direct and immediate, a state of awareness which transcends the need for belief.

Everything that happens in the world around us each and every moment is a sign. All anyone needs is the ability to silence the mind long enough to capture the message. When we quiet the mind, spirit talks to us in a very clear voice... and I am not speaking metaphorically. My experience is quite literal.

Sometimes spirit speaks in words, sometimes just a whisper; sometimes it presents us with a scene or a serendipitous sign right before our eyes. It speaks equally to everyone, but many don't realize it. We are so preoccupied with our thoughts that instead of making a space for silence and listening, we prefer all kinds of subterfuges.

Learning to listen directly to spirit is a way of accessing another level of awareness that is behind all that exists. Silence offers a pathway between the worlds. When our mind stays silent, incredible aspects of our being emerge... aspects that are not readily definable. When you practice silence, you open to a broader array of perception. If you try to understand it, you block it. I don't see it as something difficult or complex, because it is not something from another world; it is just silencing the mind.

Inner silence is not only the absence of thoughts, it is about suspending judgment, witnessing without interpreting. Entering silence can be defined in a contradictory way as learning 'how to think without words'. Maybe this doesn't make sense, but maybe only because we are accustomed to consulting our mind about everything. But when we learn how to disconnect the mind, a certain kind of freedom is achieved without thinking.

People who are able to stop their internal dialogue completely, so that they no longer interpret anything, enter a state of pure perception; and they are never disappointed or regretful about anything thereafter, because they have learned to deal with the universe in direct terms, and they live in the most authentic state of freedom.

Silence is our natural condition, yet it is largely missing in our world. We were born from silence and there we will return. What contaminates us are all the superfluous ideas that percolate through us, due to our collective way of living. Our minds have become clouded with the compulsory illusions of what it means to be a human being based upon upholding patterns that have been culturally imposed upon humanity for millennia.

As descendants of primates we have very ingrained social customs whose primary objective may be to diminish the levels of tension inside the group. With the development of language, humans have learned how to relieve tension with the exchange of words. Every time we have an opportunity, we tranquilize each other by talking about something. And when we're not busy talking, we are processing, planning, judging, reasoning, or thinking – busy, busy, busy.

After millennia of coexistence, we have internalized these exchanges to the point that, whether we are asleep or awake, our mind is rarely quiet; it is most always talking to itself. We spend our lives regurgitating an endless list of opinions on almost everything. We receive thoughts in clusters; one connects with the other one, until the entire space of the mind is packed full. Such clutter has absolutely of no use, because, practically speaking, it is devoted solely to the expansion of the ego.

Because of our pervasive social conditioning, silence must be personally intended, insistently, over and over again. That does not mean we must repress our thoughts, but rather we must learn how to control them. Silence begins with a command, an act of will to set aside the distractions of the world, to sit quietly and listen.

Silence is calm, it is to yield, to let yourself go, to stop the world. It produces a sensation of absence, like the one a child feels when staring at a fire. The technique of contemplating the world without preconceived ideas works very well with the elements - with flames, running water, cloud formations, or the sunset... or listening in the dark in solitude, observing the space between leaves, listening to plants, or watching shadows. How wonderful to experience the feeling of not thinking, of not doing, and know that it can be evoked again and again whenever we choose.

The great silence of the Earth allows one to merge effortlessly

with trees and rocks. The silence, void of distraction,

teaches one how to be fluid like water.

It allows you to know the resounding pulse of the Earth

as it resonates through your very being

and shows you how to dance through the cosmos.

Silence is the fundamental language of spirit. A person who learns to control silence has cleansed his bond with spirit, and may engage spirit and enter the kingdom of heaven at will. When language ceases, and we quiet the mind, we become open to perceive the world anew in magical ways. When judgment is fully suspended, and we acquiesce to the silent knowledge that ever surrounds us, the dance with spirit becomes infinite. There is a potency in solitude that surpasses all understanding.  All any of us ever need do is learn to stop the world and listen, without expectation, to what spirit has to tell us; become empty vessels through which spirit may flow; and align with primal energy to cultivate an honest and practical bond with infinity.