In Western culture, the holy season is upon us. I am overwhelmed with the desire to acquire a sense of peace to be able to connect with my God. To place my consciousness in a state of silence can only be conducive to true mindfulness, to tranquility. It is here that lies the door to infinity — the portal to the answer to life, its meaning and its mission. How many of us have lead fruitless and meaningless lives simply because we have spurned silence – or even worse, have refused to believe that it could be accessed or achieved. The theoretical is always grand and pompous, isn’t it? But, how does one come to this talked about state? Firstly, it is not easy. The virtual void of silence in the world suggests that few desire or, in fact, achieve such a state. We are surrounded by the click and clack of cell phones; the bang and whirr of doors and elevators, and the whoosh and whine of traffic — to enumerate but a few distractions. It is only in that magical climb in the mountains just as the sun is rising that there is anything approximating silence in our modern society. “When you start, you have all the noise in your head … (by the journey’s end) you feel your brain is wider than the sky. You’re a guy being part of this bigness, this greatness. To be alone and experience the silence feels very safe, very meaningful.” (1)
This is not a problem, however, that is unique to our age: “At the beginning of the (19th) century objections to street noise from Times (2) editorials and letter-writers tend to be framed in moral terms. In the latter half of the century, the idea that noise has a special impact on intellectual labour becomes more commonly expressed. This may reflect a rise in a Galtonian (3) form of class consciousness. That is, the belief that social stratification reflects differences in intellectual capacity and that civilised life depends on the most intelligent classes having full freedom of action.
The letters also reveal a great deal about the street sounds of everyday life in London, even when allowing for a degree of exaggeration on the part of their writers.
Attempts to control noise in London go back to local laws in the Middle Ages when clamorous trades involving metal-working were subject to curfews. Street vendors’ cries were often celebrated in poems as emblematic of the city’s commercial spirit, but Hogarth’s 1741 engraving The Enraged Musician (4) shows them interfering with a specific line of work. (5)
As Krishnamurti (1895-1986) so aptly points out, silence must begin with the self – with me. To begin, you must give yourself a good psychological and meditative shower to wash away the exterior detritus of the known or lived life. You must come to the calm you, the natural you, in a place of silence. When you somehow arrive there, in your spiritual nudity, you can begin to discover your true self. You will be afraid, in my estimation, because it is not the perceived you in the world. It may, in fact, be a fortuitous discovery of the exciting self: not the dull and failed self that you believe yourself to be. “We carry about us the burden of what thousands of people have said and the memories of all our misfortunes. To abandon all that is to be alone, and the mind that is alone is not only innocent but young — not in time or age, but young, innocent, alive at whatever age — and only such a mind can see that which is truth and that which is not measurable by words.” (6)
In this way, I will spend a reflective and peaceful time. These are the periods in a person’s life that allow you to accept the past, have gratitude for the present and welcome the future if it comes at all. The writer and academic Norton Juster (b. 1929 ) leaves us with a thought: Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.
A closing thought: Recently, I spoke to a large gathering of young people. At the end of my talk, one young woman came up to me, in tears, to express her gratitude for my words. I was totally flummoxed. I am but the messenger of thoughts and suggestions that are as old as the civilization itself: the idea that the self has value at any age if you choose to develop your special gifts. I felt very humbled, and I reminded myself that guns and swords do not have the power that words do: we must simply think of Tolstoy and Gandhi, as examples.
To sum up: This week we spoke about how to achieve a state of silence.
To be noted: He who knows others is clever; he who knows himself has discernment.
Just for fun: The Well-Tempered Clavier
For reflection: Does God exist?
This week on your inspirational walk, please ponder how to acquire your own special silence.
Every day look for something magical and beautiful
Quote: Write down your thoughts: they give an understanding to the self.
Footnotes:
(1) Erling Kagge, Silence in the Age of Noise (ISBN: 9-7805-255-63-64-8)
(2) The Times
(3) Francis Galton
(5) Street noise and the taming of Victorian London
(6) Krishnamurti, Freedom from the Known (ISBN: 978-1846-042-13-3)
