“Silencio por favor” — I hear the words of a Peruvian shaman, demanding silence from participants in the circle. In a shamanic ceremony, healing songs, instruments, and chants are used to guide the inner journey. But it is the silence between songs, that is most poignant, most pregnant with meaning. And most challenging to hold, as the safety blanket of sound is removed and you are left one on one with what is. The space between mantras in yogic kirtan and the solemn quiet of a well-practiced zendo feel similarly rich and full.
For the introvert in me, silence is comfort. And of all the sounds in the world, it speaks loudest to me. It is the sound of yoga and meditation, of morning and the stars, of listening and heart-to-heart connection, of rest and stillness. It is the sound of something that has ended, and that which has not yet begun. It is the sound of unspeakable despair and indescribable joy.
I find that experiences that touch my heart most pale and shrink when described in words. For words, silence is a tough act to follow…