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Sitting alone, silent in a beautiful place, is a burden I'm learning to bear.
After some recent traveling and contemplating in nature's warm prescence, I understand why even in silence, peace so often eludes me. All nature lovers can relate to the joy of absorbing the colors and spaciousness of earthly beauty, thinking of nothing but the views. Oh, the views offered to my fortunate eyes... I'm not ungrateful. None of us ever intend to be. I'm lucky to have ample time & space to myself, and I'm sorry so many others are hindered by the lack of opportunity to get away from unwanted idle chatter & company, unwanted pain & grief. In their honor, I relish the quiet, and despise the noises of the world. But there is a difference between that, and experiencing true silence. Because inside, I am screaming.
I am always screaming.
For the company of a higher calling. To rid myself of the bitter-tasting necessity to share my rapture with another soul. To fill my mind only with beauty and discard the ugliness that clouds my head and manifests as late-night tears. For freedom from expectation, attachment, regret, and the need to prove myself to only God knows who.
Who is listening to my silent voice? Who is seeing my crying eyes? Who cares? Who is capable of caring, more than me? Why must I feel so much, in the empty space of my mind? Why must I speak so much, even now?
When we sit in silence, perhaps to meditate, it should be to create our own heaven. But often, we descend into hell. Our only savior might be distraction. Ask yourself: What saves you from the dark oblivion that whispers in your veins and scratches at your skin from the inside?
Fearful, and tired of trying so hard, I cling to words, and I cling to love. I am terrified of being without one or the other. But one day, I could lose my health or my mind, and with it, my ability to turn a phrase or speak my own name. That same day, I could lose the one I love, as all hearts do, and with him will vanish the guise of comfort in a world too big for a small somebody. Alone, how will I climb out of the canyons? And then, when the silence begins to scream, I'll have nowhere to hide.
It gets loud inside. I scold and forget to forgive my synapses. I ignore their pleas. But a neglected mind is a room with a view, yet no windows. Healthy silence must be cultivated, watered, sang to, and rocked to sleep. Speak kindly to your silence, even as it wails. Listen to the little devils, laugh at their very existence, and think of the beautiful things that scare them, but not you. When I remember to do this, I feel a lesser urge to talk, just to fill the quiet with confetti. Even music becomes unecessary, for a time. I can breathe, and hold my own hand, looking outward without choking on my thoughts, panicking at what I might be missing elsewhere, or wondering who might be forgetting to think of me. It's just me, here & now. Aware of the miracle beating in my chest.
So what saves you? I hope it's you.
And I also hope one day, finally, when I open my mouth, it will be not to speak, but to become the sky. A watercolor sky, far above the turning earth. Just being. Silently being.
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- faren rebecca rajkumar