What form does silence have? Does it have the colours of a gloomy day or the beautiful green of a May meadow? Does it have a sound? Yes, I’m sure. The distant passing of an aeroplane. An ancient cry of loneliness. A blooming flower.
Winters at the grandparents’ house in Carinthia: significant snows always came down, and I remember it as if it were now. Footprints of a child in the snow, in that white veil that became more and more enveloping. Breaths of oxygen. Occasionally, a blackbird. And then I looked up at the current cable that passed behind the trees, hidden by a thicker and more perfect layer. Here, that slight buzz under a cascade of iridescent flakes. What’s this? I had asked my grandfather while pulling the sledge. We walked towards the small church in the hamlet of Lammersdorf; up, behind our house. He explained something about the difference in potential that made the energy run in that wire.
In short, the sound of the electrical resistance, the sound of the Ohm.
For me, silence has always had this formula: a slight hum, a resistance in the white, something invisible and very soft. And then, that happy slide with the Rodel, the wooden sledge, fast along the road and the grandfather who covered me from the cold air with his Loden cloak.
Then I grew up, and in life, that metaphor of white and gentle resistance and the vibration of OM returned to the awareness of my long journey of inner and spiritual research. So again, in meditations, to evoke that pristine state, that lucid presence of the self in an unfathomable silence. You focus on the breath intensely in front of that emptiness that could terrify you. You have the feeling of being there, on the edge of a precipice, but you rely on it. Completely. And you let yourself abandon into a light vault.
Here and now.
‘Observe a few moments of silence’. I had never asked myself the meaning of this saying. It would be enough to keep quiet, I thought, stop chatting and make useless noise. It would already be magnificent in this social form that always wants us to participate, be active, and on point at the cost of being bothered by a continuous and useless noise. Many, too many words! To catalogue, refute, expose, protest, ironize. This or that. Good or bad, friend or foe. I have read many thoughts, articles, controversies, encouragement, trending and countertrend articles.
“How is it that I haven’t had my say on the virus yet? – my little mephitic ego tickled me these days – I would have arguments, and how! ” And instead, I chose silence. Now is the time.
In an attentive, resilient and not at all resigned presence, I stopped trying to give myself explanations. So much this test is infinitely greater than our sublime, hypercritical and intellectual mind can even remotely imagine. Yes, I observe the silence. To welcome new inspirations, listen to my intuition. Get back on that sledge and scream with joy, imagining, as then, a future full of beautiful things in the shelter of a reassuring embrace.
Today, the last step before an astonished setback. After that, the chatter of the mind is silent. I stand up, and from the infinite and luminous centre of my silence, I honour the transformation of the old world. Nothing will be the same again, and I will no longer need to feel excluded.
I welcome myself with love and a few whispered words: welcome to the new!