A deep reverence for silence must have been seeded in me from birth.
(It could also be growing up in a chaotic household where noise was constant.)
Chapels and churches, reiki rooms, meditation circles and solo walks in the forest
formed me into someone who relishes the deep quiet
of solitude, early morning, and a silent night.
These days I’m contemplating another kind of silence.
The silence described in the Sound of Silence,
written by Paul Simon…
(One of the most exquisite poems I’ve encountered.)
I was introduced to Simon & Garfunkel
in the mid sixties when my mother
brought home their album,
Dangling Conversations,
from a retreat she attended.
My dad and I spent many hours
playing the album over and over
in order to decipher the lyrics.
I've been a fan of their music/poetry ever since.
A friend recently referred me to
a version of The Sound of Silence
which sent shivers up and down my skeleton.
That silence is a different silence altogether.
It’s the stagnant silence of apathy, numbness, trauma and deep fear.
Those seeds have been planted within me as well.
Can the silence of apathy and stagnation and fear
walk hand-in-hand with the silence
of the chapel, of meditation, of exquisite solitude?
Perhaps we are in need of two new words.
One for the silence of well-being, comfort and solace.
The other for the silence of trepidation, terror, and oppression.
How about scared silence and sacred silence?
kastilwell
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