Silence

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The sun wasn't up yet; you could see the morning star

through the trees. There was a silence that was really

extraordinary. Not the silence between two noises or

between two notes, but the silence that has no reason

whatsoever the silence that must have been at the

beginning of the world. It filled the whole valley and

the hills.

 

The two big owls, calling to each other, never

disturbed that silence, and a distant dog barking at

the late moon was part of this immensity. The dew was

especially heavy, and as the sun came up over the hill

it was sparkling with many colours and with the glow

that comes with the sun's first rays.

 

" The delicate leaves of the jacaranda were heavy with

dew, and birds came to have their morning baths,

fluttering their wings so the dew on those delicate

leaves filled their feathers. The crows were

particularly persistent; they would hop from one

branch to another, pushing their heads through the

leaves, fluttering their wings, and preening

themselves. There were about half-a-dozen of them on

that one heavy branch, and there were many other

birds, scattered all over the tree, taking their

morning bath.

 

" And this silence spread, and seemed to go beyond the

hills. There were the usual noises of children

shouting, and laughter; and the farm began to wake up.

 

" It was going to be a cool day, and now the hills were

taking on the light of the sun. They were very old

hills probably the oldest in the world with oddly

shaped rocks that seemed to be carved out with great

care, balanced one on top of the other; but no wind or

touch could loosen them from this balance.

 

" It was a valley far removed from towns, and the road

through it led to another village. The road was rough

and there were no cars or buses to disturb the ancient

quietness of this valley. There were bullock carts,

but their movement was a part of the hills. There was

a dry river bed that only flowed with water after

heavy rains, and the colour was a mixture of red,

yellow and brown; and it, too, seemed to move with the

hills. And the villagers who walked silently by were

like the rocks.

 

" The day wore on and towards the end of the evening,

as the sun was setting over the western hills, the

silence came in from afar, over the hills, through the

trees, covering the little bushes and the ancient

banyan. And as the stars became brilliant, so the

silence grew into great intensity; you could hardly

bear it.

 

" The little lamps of the village were put out, and

with sleep the intensity of that silence grew deeper,

wider and incredibly over-powering. Even the hills

became more quiet, for they, too, had stopped their

whisperings, their movement, and seemed to lose their

immense weight...

 

" Silence has many qualities. There is the silence

between two noises, the silence between two notes and

the widening silence in the interval between two

thoughts. There is that peculiar, quiet, pervading

silence that comes of an evening in the country; there

is the silence through which you hear the bark of a

dog in the distance or the whistle of a train as it

comes up a steep grade; the silence in a house when

everybody has gone to sleep, and its peculiar emphasis

when you wake up in the middle of the night and listen

to an own hooting in the valley; and there is that

silence before the owl's mate answers. There is the

silence of an old deserted house, and the silence of a

mountain; the silence between two human beings when

they have seen the same thing, felt the same thing,

and acted.

 

" That night, particularly in that distant valley with

the most ancient hills with their peculiar shaped

boulders, the silence was as real as the wall you

touched. And you looked out of the window at the

brilliant stars. It was not a self-generated silence;

it was not that the earth was quiet and the villagers

asleep but it came from everywhere - from the distant

stars, from those dark hills and from your own mind

and heart. This silence seemed to cover everything

from the tiniest grain of sand in the river-bed -

which only knew running water when it rained - to the

tall, spreading banyan tree and a slight breeze that

was now beginning. There is the silence of the mind

which is never touched by any noise, by any thought or

by the passing wind of experience. It is this silence

that is innocent, and so endless. When there is this

silence of the mind action springs from it, and this

action does not cause confusion or misery.

 

" The meditation of a mind that is utterly silent is

the benediction that man is ever seeking. In this

silence every quality of silence is. "

 

~ Jiddu Krishnamurti ~ " The Only Revolution "

 

http://www.jnani.org/natmyst/n_krishnamurti.html

 

----

 

" Silence is our real nature. What we are fundamentally

is only silence. Silence is free from beginning and

end. It was before the beginning of all things. It is

causeless. Its greatness lies in the fact that it

simple is. In silence all objects have their home

ground. It is the light that gives objects their shape

and form. All movement, all activity is harmonized by

silence.Silence has no opposite in noise. It is beyond

positive and negative. Silence dissolves all objects.

It is not related to any counterpart which belongs to

the mind. Silence has nothing to do with mind. It

cannot be defined but it can be felt directly because

it is our nearness. Silence is freedom without

restriction or centre. It is our wholeness, neither

inside nor outside the body. Silence is joyful, not

pleasurable. It is not psychological. It is feeling

without a feeler. Silence needs no intermediary.

Silence is holy. It is healing. There is no fear in

silence. Silence is autonomous like love and beauty.

It is untouched by time. Silence is meditation, free

from any intention, free from anyone who meditates.

Silence is the absence of oneself. Or rather, silence

is the absence of absence. Sound which comes from

silence is music. All activity is creative when it

comes from silence. It is constantly a new beginning.

Silence precedes speech and poetry and music and all

art. Silence is the home ground of all creative

activity. What is truly creative is the word, is

Truth. Silence is the word. Silence is Truth.The one

established in silence lives in constant offering, in

prayer without asking, in thankfulness, in continual

love. "

 

~ Jean Klein ~

 

http://home.clara.net/b.doyle/yoga4.htm

 

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