Silence

When we sit in silence, we create space for inspiration to flow into. I used to think that sitting in a quiet, depressed state was to sit in silence. But you are not sitting in silence when you sit unresponsive in depression. Your head is full of feeling. You may not be thinking coherent thoughts, but you are feeling, and those feelings are loud and demand your full attention.

Sitting in silence is different. Whereas the silence of depression is deafening, oppressive, and insulating, true silence is light and open. It's almost as if you can feel the inspiration cascading into your being, drawn in by the vacuum created when emptying the mind and stilling the internal dialogue.

Silence has an interesting quality to it; it feels like love. I don't mean the sort of love you feel when you are around your significant other. It's not even the sort of love you feel for your child. It's the love you feel when you are accepted and safe. It's the love I feel in meditation when I actually connect with Spirit.

This is the love we idealize as children. It is the love we sought from our parents. Instinctively, we know that that love is our birthright; however, when we seek it from our earthly parents we often know disappointment. Only our Divine parent/s are capable of such an awesome, unconditional love and acceptance.

It is intoxicating. You have heard the cliché about rosy-lensed glasses? This love filters all that you experience through a rosy lens. It transforms anger into forgiveness, pain into understanding, and grief into peace. You fall in love with everything and everyone.

Silence is like that too. In the silence you are filled with understanding. You can feel the strands of fate that interconnect all of life like a spider's web. You lose your separation from everything else and know yourself to be One with all. No longer deafened by the demands of the ego, in silence you can hear your soul; and beyond that, you can hear Spirit.

As a child, I believed that in death we find the answers to all of life's questions. As an adult, I understand that in death, we achieve silence, and in the silence the answers become more apparent. So much of our struggle for understanding comes from the deafening cacophony of our thoughts; if we were to just fall silent we might find our answers.

At one time I thought that thoughts were responsible for the disorganized jabbering in my mind. I have since realized that thoughts are merely my mind's attempt to make sense of the flood of chaotic feelings that are continuously bombarding me.