When the room is the great outdoors and silence is the absence of technology and transportation, people and their toys, silence can be the most wonderful sound. He can wear the most beautiful coat and his presence in that room can allow serenity and reflection to come in and sit down. When silence chances upon that room, he can hear dreams beginning, stories evolving, and hearts breaking. Sometimes silence sneaks into a comfortable inside room, perhaps a room already hosting creativity or sweet conversation. If he tiptoes into that room, he might be caressed and held tender, like a lover who knows just how to please his beloved.
Silence can also wear a hideous mask, a frightful face filled with memory and blame. Silence can be so loud that his voice is heard over every other sound. He can hurt much worse than any physical assault and his presence can make the world feel so empty and hopeless. He wears heavy stomping work boots and treads on all dreams, stories and hearts that get in his way. He likes control and will dominate through his silent voice. He will not touch his beloved, nor will he let his beloved feel his warmth.
The thing about silence is he always brings a message. Sweet and tender or scary and dominating, there is always a message. Ram Das noted, "The quieter you become, the more you can hear." I'm thinking it's time to listen.
Silence obviously has a great deal of influence, whether it be perceived as good or otherwise. I prefer sweet and tender, but do not desire it. For me silence denotes unease, a state of wariness. I feel better going to sleep in a barrage of noise, music, dogs barking, whatever. When silence invades my space, I want to start talking to...anyone. Fill the air with the buzz and shrieks of life-let the children's voices ring out over the golden hillsides. Silence golden? Not in my world. Bring on the vibrancy of life. How about sitting outside, listening to the keys of a piano, echoing the cascading water of a swift flowing creek? How about the sound of a wind chimes, tinkling over the Morning Glories, water from the emitters pitter-pattering onto the deck floor. Put me in the center of the campground, with the sounds of mankind gently undulating in the lazy, hot afternoon air, while I doze in the hammock...
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