What is the silence of what you speak?

[Guest guest]

All:

What is silence when I can hear the sound of colour and can hear the breeze as

it reclines upon the bending blades of grass? What is silence when my mind is

an endless symphony of poetry and song, and past life personas caught in

conversations and candlelit writings; of teachings of the land; of languages and

" prophecies " ? What is silence when my heart is thrumming with the awe of beauty

so magnificent that it leaves my body heaving and longing to be able to toss it

into the air and await its glittery light to flurry down on others- dancing upon

their eyelashes and tickling their noses? Yet this pull to silence becomes more

intense with each passing day. And with that comes the fear of silence caging;

caging my truth and this journey and having it lodged back into my throat and

pressed upon my spine… where it will lay buried until excavated by some future

self some 40 years later.

What is the silence of what you speak?

 

-Danielle

[Guest guest]

For me, silence can be very noisy. I notice that my mind is often anxious,

filled with random thoughts, feelings and ideas. I don't know what gives rise

to this mind, but sometimes, it lets go of me. The grip loosens, and I can

abide in sensations. Noisy sensations like waking up to the sound of rain in

the middle of the night, or listening to the sound of traffic on the freeway

outside my bedroom window, without wishing I could just make the world shut up

for a second.

 

There's a pleasure that arises out of moments like that - moments which the mind

can't label as good or bad. During meditation too, there can be a pleasure in

just breathing. As soon as my mind becomes set on the goal of using meditation

as a tool to achieve some state, that pleasure is lost. Fear arises: " Why

can't I concentrate? " " How can I get that feeling back? "

 

I am trying to learn how to surrender these thoughts. I pray that you can find

a way too.

 

Adrian

 

, " iamwaitingmoon "

<iamwaitingmoon wrote:

>

> All:

> What is silence when I can hear the sound of colour and can hear the breeze as

it reclines upon the bending blades of grass? What is silence when my mind is

an endless symphony of poetry and song, and past life personas caught in

conversations and candlelit writings; of teachings of the land; of languages and

" prophecies " ? What is silence when my heart is thrumming with the awe of beauty

so magnificent that it leaves my body heaving and longing to be able to toss it

into the air and await its glittery light to flurry down on others- dancing upon

their eyelashes and tickling their noses? Yet this pull to silence becomes more

intense with each passing day. And with that comes the fear of silence caging;

caging my truth and this journey and having it lodged back into my throat and

pressed upon my spine… where it will lay buried until excavated by some future

self some 40 years later.

> What is the silence of what you speak?

>

> -Danielle

>