Silence can feel awfully dangerous because it opens us up to the slithery parts of the mind. You know, the discomforts, the doubts, the worries. And I immediately will go to the place of, "I don't want this."
And so, typically, we go for distractions. Oftentimes, these days, those distractions are of the electronic variety. The whipped cream of entertainment videos and sports scores, for me in particular, or then there's the caffeine of anger from social media posts or news articles.
I know that I can pause at this moment. Just take a breath. But then I come up with these counter-arguments. "Well, that's just self-indulgent" or "that's not going to work," as if working means getting rid of the mind stuff.
But then when I slow... and I just see, and I'm just there.
I notice that the second hand of the clock seems to slow with me.
I notice that sounds start to appear.
The rushing of cars on wet roads.
The singular range of a particular whirring engine outside my window.
Then there's the punctuating call of birds.
One I recognize as a blue jay.
One is an unknown type to me, a bird that has these bursts of playful burring.
I can feel my body's pulsing.
I see the bobbing of my foot attached to the leg that's crossed over the other one. Enlivened by this pulsing of a main vessel.
So then I wonder, what is the problem with just pausing and letting everything else just be there? All of that stuff ... it's all just leaves on the stream, as that very famous meditation goes.
The mind.
The thoughts.
Just leaves coming down, flitting down from the trees above, landing on the stream.
I'm not ready to sift through any of those thoughts, can be my stance. Just let those leaves float down.
I'm still in a wary relationship with this stance of being in silence and allowing for the thoughts to be there. But I'll keep working at it.
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