I found this piece on my computer this morning. It was written in a warmer month, when the trees actually held leaves. I don’t think I ever shared it. If I did, then here it is insisting on being shared again.
I meditated tonight in silence, when generally I play the music of someone else’s soul.
I meditated tonight in silence, the better to hear myself, to reach those inner places in myself that hold my small piece of god.
As I came into the meditation space tonight (that physical space where I create and meditate and which is imbued with the energy of spirit), as I came into that space I passed the large picture windows in my living room. I saw the full moonlight brightening the lawn outside, as if it were daytime instead of almost bedtime. The whole world looked silvery and enticing. And out I went, a few minutes later and unexpectedly, to walk my dog.
We walked down into the woods, and he ran off to do what he came to do, and I stood in the moonlight and the leaves and the silence, and I heard Spirit say, “Talk about the importance of being silent.”
Silence allows the divinity within us to unfurl, like a shy fern uncoiling. In silence, we can focus just for a moment on ourselves; we can suspend the judgment of others and simply allow ourselves to be.
How do you invite silence into your life? When are the times and what are the ways and places when you allow yourself to be absolutely unspeaking, alone and quiet? If you don’t practice formal meditation, perhaps your silence is walking your dog, or long bubble baths, or creating art. In silence and the passion of our creativity, we touch what is right and strong and true in ourselves. We touch our joy.