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What We Find In Silence

Silence is scary. Silence can feel dark, empty, and lonely.


To avoid these feelings, my brain can fill the silence with a million thoughts to distract me.


But when I let myself drop into the true nothingness of myself, the engulfing silence reminds me that I truly am nothing, a no one, a nobody. I want to jump away from the feelings it brings and instead try to mentally work my way through them. I want to tell myself that it's okay, that I am realizing a true fact of life, that everyone must come and go. 


But this mental analysis distracts me from feeling the silence, nothingness, and loneliness. Analyzing thought is much more comfortable than feeling it.


I am good at logical reasoning; in fact, I love analyzing and pondering thoughts. But I need practice at feeling and truly accepting what needs to come up within me without running from it.


So, when I sit in silence, allow myself to fall into it, and let go of myself, I see the darkness for all it is.


Both scary and freeing, unknown but welcomed, dark yet warm, cold yet loving, new but familiar, an embrace I have been waiting for, freedom I have been searching for, unconditional love I have been yearning for.


I see that darkness is connection, expansive, wholeness, and complete.


I see my nothingness as a part of everything, intricately connected and woven together, one with the Universe. 


I am everything, and I am nothing.


But why do I fear silence when I know its emptiness is not actually a void but a connection to something deeper, a connection to everything and everyone?


Perhaps it's not the silence but myself that I most fear, the parts of me that arise when I am faced with silence, and sometimes, it's dark loneliness.  


For in the silence, I feel my sadness. I grieve the loss of what I believe I should be, what others have thought I should be. But in the grieving, I learned to let go and make space for what is. I recognize that what already exists is perfect, designed by a Universe that is pure magic and love. I get better at going with the flow, swimming with the world and its plans for me, rather than fighting against it, feeling stuck, tied to the familiar, unable to escape the pains of outgrowing a life that is not meant for me. 


In silence, I feel my tiredness, understanding how I've run myself empty and the unsustainability of my habits or activities, encouraging me to reflect on changes I must make.


In silence, I must face myself, my fears, my insecurities, my weaknesses. Mental chatter and distractions keep these unpleasant thoughts at bay and even help to rationalize them, but silence allows them to surface. Silence allows the mud to clear and the water to become translucent. The light of truth then shines on the water's surface to reveal what lies below, what lurks behind my pleasant facade of an exterior I put on display for the world. 


The illusion of this perfect person, the pretty girl, the smart and reliable, the resourceful, the respectful, the innately good, the pleasant, the never hurtful, the people pleaser, the kind and helpful girl, leaves the reflection, as I peer deeper into the water, deeper into my mind, to the shadowy places I try to hide from, to keep locked away. Darker personas enter into view, but spending time with them has taught me that they are not innately bad or evil. These parts of me that I felt needed to be hidden from others have held a purpose, still hold a purpose, to keep me cared for, to satisfy my needs, and to help me cope with emotional wounds or traumas. I created these parts of me out of love and endearment while still a child learning to navigate my world, the people around me, and the reality I faced.


I know these "bad" parts of me are just as important as the "good" parts. Both serve a role and contain seeds of lessons I must face in order to grow and evolve. I recognize that I am equally bad and good, and until I face all parts of me, I will allow these personas to run me, to control me. But spending time with them allows them to transmute and helps me find the beauty in all parts of me, accepting myself in my entirety.


And so, it is not the silence I fear; it is only myself, my true, entire self.


Each day, new challenges and levels of this inner work arise, requiring me to work harder to accept and love myself and others and recognize the good within the bad and the bad within the good. I would be lying if I said I rise to the challenge each and every day, for I have some days where I run and hide from vulnerable parts of myself, the uncomfortable or ugly truths asking for my recognition. It can take weeks, even before I am ready to truly face certain parts of me. This running creates chaos that ultimately requires me to turn inward. But I see the beauty and the lessons in even this.


There is a perfect balance always at play within our Universe. And you are experiencing it now. If it feels imbalanced, where are you not willing to see the full picture, the root cause of your discomfort or chaos?


Diving into silence and our inner darkness allows us to learn more about ourselves, leading us to the balance that is always at play. In the process, we learn to love ourselves and others more deeply and unconditionally.



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