Words are the symbols of the absence of silence. When silence speaks, words forget their territory. We forget how to listen to silence. The very meaning these writings providing at this moment, silence must be laughing at this predicament.
A being who has started falling away from the profound beauty and buzz of silent undetectable waves, he starts inventing symbols which can provide an alternative for this silence. There is a great burden on these words to carry the wisdom of current times to the future generations. Silence must be wondering now where does it fit in all this?
No puns intended,
It doesn’t need the constrictions of time and space to ascertain its value. It knows its nature lies beyond. The importance we have placed on our words might have fooled the Silence too for a moment, or that is what we may think, but silence knows it doesn’t need justifications.
Silence speaks louder than coherent words when we live some of the best moments of our lives.
We can date back our words, but can we do the same with silence?
It has the power to take us to the very deep core of liberation. When we shed what is the accumulation of our outside projections, the ringing of silence rises to the surface. Hear that sound of nothingness that hits close to our ears and yet remain unnoticed to us in front of these worldly noises.
Silence is the medium when art speaks of creation, or alternatively, the creation speaks of art, and it becomes a chaotically organized collection of newness.
When I speak of silence, it manages to compliment me by forming the ideal words I would speak when I would momentarily depart from this silence. For me, these moments could be from seconds to hours, but silence knows no bounds.
Talking of departure,
Even, the physical senses long to know the shape of this silence, asking, can it mirror their deep desires? Begging for the unmanifest to manifest isn’t something new, but are these physical senses patient enough to sit with the simplicity of this silence meanwhile?
Or, we could try to search for answers in complexity, yet they are only met with new questions. Simplification and deduction might seem like the final answer at this level when we seem to arrive at the center of this silence. But, as we near it, another complexity starts emerging. It seems like a hidden vortex where the end of something known becomes the birth of a new mystery.
Within this spiraling journey or that which is unknown, we start learning the art of silence.
Meditation is where we develop our own unique energetic medicine. Silence becomes an ingredient. We, thus, become a chef of the fine delicacies of our lives. Meditation molds in a medium we all long to take nectar from, yet only a few tries to put in the effort.
Speaking is easy. Doing needs silence.
Yes, words can be golden. But this silence is crystalline.
No matter what all nonsense we listen from out, we can always step into this silence. It holds true power, wisdom, and love for our afraid souls, or to say, us. It becomes home, retreat, and rejuvenation when the burdens start weighing the soul down. It becomes the infinite wealth when the peace becomes destitute on its own.
We know now, when silence speaks, the words bow. Surrender becomes transcendence and infinity becomes approachable. Vague dreams start forming limbs while this silence humbles us down.