A Truth about Soundlessness & Silence

I experienced a deep thinking period during meditation this weekend. A change in surroundings makes you acutely aware.

From an empty house; from a mentally remote bus ride; from walking back, and forth; from receding into my own thoughts. When, after a highly energized theatre performance, two housemates and I drudged two miles back home on foot in darkness, once our evening clumsily diffused from a string of unfortunate events. Quietness enveloped us along the way, yet I felt unmoved by the soundlessness. These days, I am ambivalent by the absence of sound.

Sunday evening, I enter a meditative state where my essential self and body separate, and my senses are turn inward. And I experience silence, which, as I remember it, is a place that profoundly enjoy. Its serenity, its temerity, its paradox, its substance. Silence is present, and it contains the sound of the world opening to you.

So the next time you are inside your own head, contemplating, scheming, or feeling your way through, struggle past your muted surroundings, and perhaps, surrender yourself to the silence. It welcomes you.

R.