Silence

Silence is a power in and of itself. I have sat in silence in private mediation, in gathered grief, in anticipation of medical procedures or diagnoses, in awe of natural phenomena, and many other places.

By far and away, the most powerful silence I experienced was in October 1988 on the Ellipse in Washington, DC. I was working as a volunteer on the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt. Fifty-two acres of quilt panels commemorating people who had died from AIDS. Fifty-two acres of silence. Everyone who walked through the area, from street people to grief-stricken friends and family to members of Congress, either did not speak or spoke in brief, hushed tones. As I traversed the Quilt, I discovered that the closer I was to the perimeter, the louder the voices were. However, the normal-toned voices which sounded loud to me were all outside the perimeter. As soon as anyone's feet entered the hallowed ground formed by the Quilt, voices quieted and stilled. No signage requested or required it. Everyone simply felt the need for silence.

The only exception to the silence was at the podium where individuals read the names of the people for whom the panels were made. I had my turn in that spot, reading. And wept while reading, as so many others did before and after me.

Many aspects of our lives are inundated with sound to the point that we nearly fear silence. We understand its power without instruction. What is it that we fear? Power? Intimacy? Diminishment? Strength?

How do you feel about silence? What was your most poignant experience with it? Do you practice within silence?

Internal Noise

ML Monroe

It is a paradox that we encounter so much internal noise when we first try to sit in silence.

~ Gunilla Norris

Have you ever attempted to sit in silence? I have. More times than I can count over the years. Each time I start, the noise comes. It's as though my brain waits for me to sit in meditation before it opens the floodgates of internal dialogue. It often begins with lists of what I 'should' be doing: laundry, dishes, reading a book, writing.... it goes on and on. Sometimes it goes on to a discourse on why I should be doing ... whatever else. Then there are the conversations I begin to have with others: "Why didn't you clean out the litter box?" pops into my head with an image and the dialogue is off and running. I could go on and on and on with examples. 

I've decided to let the chatter slip into that space that becomes 'white noise' ~ it's not as loud or pressing there. I don't fight it. Sometimes, I say to the chatter, "Sit over there a while. I'll get back to you when I'm done." Occasionally, it even responds positively by doing what I ask. Then the next time I sit down, it might begin again.

The internal noise is like the bubbles rising to the surface on the water. Sometimes they're visible, they catch my attention. Sometimes I'm focused within the depths and don't notice them. Either way, I am okay with the thoughts and rumblings existing. It's all part of the journey of my life.

How do you treat the internal noise that comes when you attempt to sit in silence? How does it feel? Does it whisk your attention away? How do you feel about the noise?

By All Means Paint

Six Sunflowers by Vincent Van Gogh

“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.” 

― Vincent van Gogh

On a beautiful summer day, Van Gogh's sunflowers imitate reality with their brightness and lively color. I am always amazed by the intensity of the blues and golds that Van Gogh used. Every stroke brings the image to life. Every slight shift of color infuses it with movement.

His quote also amazes me. I cannot count the number of times in my life I've heard that voice saying, you cannot....  Many times I didn't listen, I simply did whatever I chose and let that voice fall into silence. There were some times, however, when I did listen. Maybe not to the full you cannot...., but certainly to the voice telling me that I was better off where I was, doing what I was, staying the path I was on. That voice keeps me abreast of the status quo ~ or closer to it than I might have wandered otherwise.

 Do I regret the decision to listen to that voice? Sometimes. The truth for me lies muddled in between. Sometimes I wasn't ready to move on. Sometimes I wanted to be more adventurous. Sometimes I felt frustrated. Sometimes I was seeking a way out of that frustration. Mostly, I recognize that my life has been its own version of a miracle, filled with wonder and joy, adventure and challenge.

What does that inner voice say to you? Have you listened to the you cannot...? Have you moved beyond it? How do you feel about your choice?

Silencing the Voice of Not

There always seems to be a voice in my hear that says I cannot do...something. Generally, the voice chatters about whatever it is I'm attempting to learn or to improve or to add into my life. Of course, the voice knows my vulnerable spots ~ the tender places where I am less settled and more restless already. The places where my vulnerability leaks out around the edges of whatever new or tender spot near which I rest.

What I choose to do in those moments when that voice whispers, cajoles, hounds or hollers determines how much say that voice has in my life, how much power it gets from me. I have the choice to listen or to say, "I'm done with you; I know better; I am better than that." Those words are tough. Tough for me to say. Tough on me. Tough on the voice.

There are times when I believe the voice is powerful. Times when I believe what the voice has to say because it sounds reasonable or logical. But all the voice wants is for me to be safe. Which, to the voice, means to stay risk free, not to draw attention to myself or the possible things I may do with less finesse than I would want. But for me, living risk free is not living at all. It's existing. It's breathing in and out, but little else. I have to keep doing new things, keep stretching my skills, keep finding new learning and growing adventures. That keeps the voice quiet, or at least quieter. And most of the time, that's enough.

What challenges you? What does your voice say? How does your voice in your head try to protect you?

More of What Matters

Rumi. One of my very favorite poets. One of my favorite commentators on life.

What is calling me has changed from what called me 30, 20 or even 10 years ago. My life situation is changing ~ has changed ~ and I find myself looking deeply in a different direction. There is a new-found silence that bubbles from a well I'd almost forgotten lived within me.  The spot had grown so very, very still that any movement or noise drowned it out.

Recently, the bubbling began. And I knew that the Wild Iris bloomed within me, in the dark forest of my soul. There's a beauty there that draws me ever deeper into it. When I get there, I wonder if there will be another direction, another calling, pulling on my soul?

What pulls on your soul? How do you silence the noise enough to hear the calling of your soul? What blooms within for you?

Facing Midnight

©2014 by ML Monroe

A Clear Midnight

by Walt Whitman

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee full forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars.




Sometimes I face midnight still wrapped in the book I'm reading or the blog I'm writing or writing/reading/learning social media or preparing for the next day. It's not the same approach as Walt Whitman describes. I love the concept of having that time for "free flight into the wordless." What does that even mean in today's connected electricity-bound culture? How can there be such a time as "wordless"?

My soul resonates with that concept. With letting go of all the hustle and bustle of the day. Really letting go. Being silent. That's not only being quiet. Silence is deeper. It permeates every aspect of my senses ~ it's a broader quieting, one that doesn't simply refer to a stilling of the noise. It goes beyond that, to a stillness of my entire being beginning at the center and expanding more fully.

Those themes Whitman mentions strike chords within me too. Night, the moon and the stars are all beloved by me. I am a creature drawn by and into the night. Yet until I read his poem, I never considered death a theme walking alongside the others. As the moon and the stars and the deep darkness of night continue to wane and wax and wane again, I will bring that theme out of its hiding place within me so it may stroll beside me instead. I will see what death has to say.

How do you interact with Whitman's themes? Are you a creature of the night? or do you prefer the light of day? What themes would be more suitable for daylight? What themes draw you?

Writing and Silence

Today was an incredible day of retreat: meditation, silence and writing. It was offered in a beautiful space on the Washougal River. The space we used for meditation and gathering opened onto a porch that overlooked the river itself. And the river was in beautiful, burbling form. I loved having the time and the space to focus on what might move through my mind and into my pen. I found that I didn't always follow the prompts, but I wasn't far away either. I could take the time for myself, write what I want and be content.

The sound of the rapids permeated the entire outdoor experience. When we were outside, I found my feet, my spirit, my soul bounding down the stairs to the bench overlooking the rapids. I wanted the space all to myself ~ and so did every woman there! Although it would seem to be a competition, each had the opportunity to sit or walk with the river and that make the day even more wonderfully special and precious.

Silence on a writing retreat is difficult to say is truly silent. There is the time for writing and the time for sharing. There was time for movement in the breaks. Each moment, each sharing, each trip closer to the center of ME. I felt grounded, content, self-aware. I want to do those again.

Relating that to this Lenten season is simple: it's all about awareness. About being open to the call of Spirit in whatever shape and form it arrives. Growth and change and presence. All three readily available in the retreat!

What settles you in to a deeper awareness of yourself? of your surroundings? Do you write about that awareness? Do you share you those moments with others?