A Lifetime Can Change By the Flash of Truth

Sitting in silence can you hear your inner motor? I’m not talking about your heartbeat or the hum in your ears. I’m talking about the silence? What does the silence sound like?

I know my silence has changed over time.

I was a bouncing ball moving from one thought to another, reacting and refocusing over and over again.

Other times, my thoughts are gentle and reflective observations that I don’t feel attached to.

Then, of course, there are times beyond the monkey mind when the train has left the track and it’s speeding attaching one fearful thought on top of another.

Occasionally I have the profound experience of nothing but peace and emptiness where I’m floating.

The more I practice silence the more patient I am with myself in silence. The more I practice silence the more willing I am to listen to my quiet inside voice. The more I practice silence the more patient I am outside myself when I listen.

There are times we experience silence together. We watch each other in our Zoom experience.

We’re all breathing together. We are in silence together. We are being together.

I believe when we sit in silence, we honorably bless ourselves. There is truth among us. A truth that can’t be defined by words. A presence that is greater than we can imagine. A presence that runs our inner motors.

In our silence, we listen and wait to hear truth. I recognize truth when I feel goosebumps. I recognize truth when my heart is full. I recognize truth when tears spontaneously fill my eyes. I recognize truth by knowing.

Truth has no time. A lifetime can change by the flash of truth.

Our silence honors our thoughts. We deserve to be heard. Our silence demonstrates self-care. We deserve to be loved. Our silence demonstrates our self-worth. We deserve to be held. Our silence hears our story. We deserve to be believed. We deserve love.

We demonstrate that by sitting with ourselves and honoring our silence. It is a gift and a doorway to peace.

Ask Me

By William Stafford, from Stories That Could Be True

Some time when the river is ice ask me mistakes I have made. Ask me whether what I have done is my life. Others have come in their slow way into my thought, and some have tried to help or to hurt: ask me what difference their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say. You and I can turn and look at the silent river and wait. We know the current is there, hidden; and there are comings and goings from miles away that hold the stillness exactly before us. What the river says, that is what I say.