Silence as Birthplace
Almost a decade ago now, I had something happen that hurt me deeply. Don't worry, it wasn't an assault of any kind - the world holds far more potential for woe than what other human beings can bring. But it was hurtful all the same.
In those long, sleepless nights after it all happened, I took refuge in loud, pounding music, turned up as high as I could.
I was trying to escape.
But healing never comes when you run away. Instead, the things that plague you simply grow and become worse. At some point though, I realized that I had to face what had hurt me and come to some kind of peace again if life were ever to become good again.
Luckily, my husband had to go away for the week for work, and I had no work of my own as all my students were on vacation. I had a whole week free, and so I made good use of it to go into silent retreat.
A lot of people find silence daunting. It's like the aural version of being in a dark room, and that makes it a somewhat atavistic fear. Many people fear the dark because they cannot see potential threats. When it comes to silence, this fear is worse in a way, because the threats are not external but come from within.
What is there in the "nothingness" when you turn off the TV, close the books, and put down the phone?
What thoughts await? What memories? What horrors and fears?
It's just you and your mind, and for some people that's the scariest thing of all.
In a sense, by retreating into silence for a week, I staged an intervention for my mind. I kept to myself, I had no music or television, and spoke only as absolutely necessary. My only companion was my dog.
At first it was hard. The memories rose up in waves and I planted myself like a large, unmovable rock. Soon though, I realized that unlike the rock, I could enter the memories and further deconstruct the scene, reasoning with myself as I did so. I could examine my feelings about the various aspects of what had happened and pull apart those that made no objective sense in a way that body, mind, and heart could accept.
By the time the tide went out I'd become an expert of sorts, and by the third and fourth nights I was sleeping again. I'd finally found my calm once more and gained a new (to me) way of working with my mind. Most surprising though, I'd also discovered that it was possible to enjoy that kind of all-pervasive silence.
Though loquacious around others, I have a deep need for silence in private, and when I don't get it I become grouchy and off. At first it was a need for peace and a kind of 'mind reset' that drove me, but as I came to plumb the depths of silence and mind, I also found a form of guidance I think we need more than ever before.
Nowadays, so much of our media is centered on telling us what to think and how to feel.
When I was in school, my teacher had us do an exercise in which we took a newspaper report and highlighted the actual factual phrases. To our surprise at the time (this was the 90s so it wasn't as egregious as now), very little of the content in a report was actually factual. The vast majority even then was framing and trying to get people to think in the way they wanted them to. In other words, the vast majority was designed to ensnare.
(Seriously, try this out for yourself. It's likely worse than you think.)
And now we also have the modern phenomenon of the 'talking head' (and its brother 'hate radio') to contend with. These are people who are paid incredible amounts of money to basically present views of patriotism and morality that are expeditious to those paying them.
So how are we to remain sane in all of this? How are we to understand the truth of things and remain true to our own moral compasses?
I believe we can find these answers in silence.
More than ever, we need to turn off the noise and cleave to our inner guidance.
More than ever, we need to sit away from the shrill voices and deconstruct the arguments being made - away from the shrieking, and peer pressure, and the sense of tribal belonging that comes with that.
More than ever, as part of that examination, we need to ask the simple schoolyard question of "Would we like what they're advocating to be done to us?"
Then finally, we need to ask the somewhat deeper question of "Does that actually align with my values (or am I getting away from myself because what they're saying makes me feel something I like)?"
(And yes, I realize that I'm assuming decency here and that many people seem to be lacking. Those who wouldn't understand this probably wouldn't read it anyway.)
What we find in the silence at times like these is unflinching, it can be the most unflattering mirror. Most importantly though, it can bring us back to our better selves and give us a stable center in the wild storm of emotions that passes for modern political discourse.
And when we are ready to march out into the world with ensnaring words and hopefully helpful actions of our own, it can be the birthplace of creativity.
Because when you recognize that "nothingness" for the potentiality it actually is, then it can become the deep cauldron-mind of the poets.
In those long, sleepless nights after it all happened, I took refuge in loud, pounding music, turned up as high as I could.
I was trying to escape.
But healing never comes when you run away. Instead, the things that plague you simply grow and become worse. At some point though, I realized that I had to face what had hurt me and come to some kind of peace again if life were ever to become good again.
Luckily, my husband had to go away for the week for work, and I had no work of my own as all my students were on vacation. I had a whole week free, and so I made good use of it to go into silent retreat.
A lot of people find silence daunting. It's like the aural version of being in a dark room, and that makes it a somewhat atavistic fear. Many people fear the dark because they cannot see potential threats. When it comes to silence, this fear is worse in a way, because the threats are not external but come from within.
What is there in the "nothingness" when you turn off the TV, close the books, and put down the phone?
What thoughts await? What memories? What horrors and fears?
It's just you and your mind, and for some people that's the scariest thing of all.
In a sense, by retreating into silence for a week, I staged an intervention for my mind. I kept to myself, I had no music or television, and spoke only as absolutely necessary. My only companion was my dog.
At first it was hard. The memories rose up in waves and I planted myself like a large, unmovable rock. Soon though, I realized that unlike the rock, I could enter the memories and further deconstruct the scene, reasoning with myself as I did so. I could examine my feelings about the various aspects of what had happened and pull apart those that made no objective sense in a way that body, mind, and heart could accept.
By the time the tide went out I'd become an expert of sorts, and by the third and fourth nights I was sleeping again. I'd finally found my calm once more and gained a new (to me) way of working with my mind. Most surprising though, I'd also discovered that it was possible to enjoy that kind of all-pervasive silence.
Though loquacious around others, I have a deep need for silence in private, and when I don't get it I become grouchy and off. At first it was a need for peace and a kind of 'mind reset' that drove me, but as I came to plumb the depths of silence and mind, I also found a form of guidance I think we need more than ever before.
Nowadays, so much of our media is centered on telling us what to think and how to feel.
When I was in school, my teacher had us do an exercise in which we took a newspaper report and highlighted the actual factual phrases. To our surprise at the time (this was the 90s so it wasn't as egregious as now), very little of the content in a report was actually factual. The vast majority even then was framing and trying to get people to think in the way they wanted them to. In other words, the vast majority was designed to ensnare.
(Seriously, try this out for yourself. It's likely worse than you think.)
And now we also have the modern phenomenon of the 'talking head' (and its brother 'hate radio') to contend with. These are people who are paid incredible amounts of money to basically present views of patriotism and morality that are expeditious to those paying them.
So how are we to remain sane in all of this? How are we to understand the truth of things and remain true to our own moral compasses?
I believe we can find these answers in silence.
More than ever, we need to turn off the noise and cleave to our inner guidance.
More than ever, we need to sit away from the shrill voices and deconstruct the arguments being made - away from the shrieking, and peer pressure, and the sense of tribal belonging that comes with that.
More than ever, as part of that examination, we need to ask the simple schoolyard question of "Would we like what they're advocating to be done to us?"
Then finally, we need to ask the somewhat deeper question of "Does that actually align with my values (or am I getting away from myself because what they're saying makes me feel something I like)?"
(And yes, I realize that I'm assuming decency here and that many people seem to be lacking. Those who wouldn't understand this probably wouldn't read it anyway.)
What we find in the silence at times like these is unflinching, it can be the most unflattering mirror. Most importantly though, it can bring us back to our better selves and give us a stable center in the wild storm of emotions that passes for modern political discourse.
And when we are ready to march out into the world with ensnaring words and hopefully helpful actions of our own, it can be the birthplace of creativity.
Because when you recognize that "nothingness" for the potentiality it actually is, then it can become the deep cauldron-mind of the poets.
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