During a conversation this week about my desire to be quieter, a friend demonstrated the kind of action I associate with people who are in tune with themselves. Pausing for a moment, she reflected before offering the thought which had come to her. Conveying messages in such a way suggests that we are sometimes just conduits for each other; gateways, open to the infinite, allowing whatever is on the other side to pass through in its purest form. The information appears to come from nowhere, and when we honour our role in its delivery, we are able to glimpse the simplicity of existence.
Her suggestion was to be in the silence. Rather than be quiet and restrict the flow of life and energy by isolating myself or a part of myself, I can inhabit the silence, remain complete, and be connected to the vast web contained within it. She left me for a while and I discovered that it’s easy for me to go there. I have an affinity for it and an ease with it, but there’s more than that. The silence is indeed a space of connection. We imagine silence to be empty – that’s how the word feels because of the meaning we impose on it: an absence of sound. But it’s only when the silence is present that we appreciate its fullness. As Mozart said: ‘The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.’
Inhabiting the silence, I am reminded of the teachers who urge us to see the connection between us all. I know that everything is connected, but still I struggle to see myself in others – especially the annoying people who cross my path. Somehow though, in the silence, we are all together. It’s a shortcut to a deep connection with humanity; a place where the notion of ‘Us and Them’ dissolves. It feels like an immense space; an infinity within an infinity, in which we are channels for everything and everyone all of the time. Peace, freedom and expansion are there too, always available, always waiting patiently for us to step into the silence.