“Solitude is independence. It had been my wish and with the years I had attained it. It was cold. Oh, cold enough! But it was also still, wonderfully still and vast like the cold stillness of space in which the stars revolve.” ~ Hermann Hesse
Quiet and stillness and silence. These are the things I find myself craving as the world grows louder, and the possibility for being alone becomes more scarce. On any given day, I am surrounded by a barrage of sounds and noise. The radio playing classical music. The television and its 24-hour news cycle. The washing machine and dryer. The beeps of the microwave and dishwasher, the beeps of the refrigerator, the beeps of the coffee maker. The drone of co-workers, punctuated by the occasional squeal of laughter. The incessant talk of meetings. The roar of traffic. The rumble of a garage door. The buzz of a phone call. The ping of a text message. Even when I make it home, and everything is turned off, there are still noises ~ the hum of the heater, the ticking of a clock, the sporadic drips of a diffuser. Such is the modern world.
We have become accustomed to such noise, and for some people total silence is more jarring and disturbing than a wall of sound. I used to be that way. A trip to Sharon Springs and its accompanying quiet was a jolt to my system a number of years ago. It was then that I realized I was losing an important aspect of life: silence. Since that time, I’ve worked to regain the moments of aural respite that quiet affords. It’s become more important as I’ve been implementing it as part of my daily meditation. Whereas I once meditated with Tibetan flute music or background yoga chants, I now do so in complete silence, and it makes a grand difference.
To start, it allows one to focus on the breathing, the most important part of meditation. By isolating the internal gaze to the primal function of life, I’m more able to push distractions to the side and allow the more prominent emotions and feelings to enter, be acknowledged, and pass on.
Second, silence allows for rejuvenation. Whether I was realizing it or not, being surrounded by a constant barrage of sound and noise was draining. Like the subtle scratch of an underwear label that doesn’t sit quite right, you may not even be aware of the discomfort until it’s removed. The same holds true for quiet: if you haven’t had it in a while, its appearance may be a marked relief. In the simplest terms, it allows your ears to rest, and in turn your brain to become calm. The cessation of an auditory assault is always a relief to me, especially now that I’ve accustomed myself to equate silence with peace and contemplation.
Finally, an atmosphere of quiet and stillness makes for an environment in which it is possible, and almost fostered, to examine yourself. Rather than raising the volume of those inner voices that most of us entertain during the day, it somehow works to quiet them, as if they too want to join in the hushed reverence of the moment at hand.
“How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here forever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.” ~ Virginia Woolf
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