“Can we turn the music off,” I asked?
“Nooo!” said my sister, irritated. “Just leave it on. You won’t even notice it after awhile.”
But I did notice it. I am a person of stillness. It grated on my nerves. I went to turn it off. But I had to walk past the front door, with its sidelight windows. Women were at the door, ringing the bell, wanting my mother, who wasn’t home.
I was still in my nightgown, so I hid. But no matter where I went to hide, they could see me through those windows as I ran by, pretending I wasn’t home. I felt like I was “bad”, that they saw me and I still didn’t answer the door. I pretended I didn’t know they saw me.
Finally they left and I gratefully turned the music off. Ah, the music of Silence flooded my ears instead. And riding in on the silence was Ecstasy. I bathed in the Ecstasy. I rolled in it like a dog rolling in the grass to scratch his back.
I have to tell my sister, I thought. I tried to tell her, “Listen to the music when you want to, but then turn it off and you’ll find Ecstasy hiding in the wind of Silence as it rushes in.”
“No,” she said angrily, “that’s silly. There’s no such thing. No one really has ecstasy; they are just living their lives contentedly and that’s all there is.”
I lay there half asleep, not quite awake, in my bed, continuing to feel the woosh of ecstasy through my body, a spiritual orgasming.
“I have to tell everyone,” I thought. “Someone will be able to hear me. Someone will try it and find the ecstasy hiding in the Silence all around us, available in every moment. All it takes is to Stop, Look, Listen and Feel.”
I woke up fully then and lay there, feeling the sensation left behind by that wooshing ecstasy, like the shiny trail left behind by a banana slug. It was so tangible still, even after it had passed.
So many thoughts surged through my head as I re-lived my dream. Clearly I was being told to share the pleasures of Silence, even if my sharing fell on deaf ears.
I remember these golden words from one of Eckart Tolle’s books, “Silence is the language God speaks.” Oh, oh, my heart swells to meet those words.
And I remember the title of a Broadway musical in the 60’s, “Stop the World: I Want to Get Off.” These words all speak to that gentle, still place inside me that wants a simpler time, a quiet time, where it would be easier to carry the Silence inside of me into each moment of my daily life.
This is always the challenge: How to be Me in the face of You, in the face of every mundane or agitated moment in my daily life, how to keep the fullness of the Divine foremost, even as I go through the busy-ness of life?
Where are you on the quiet noise scale? Do you relish the Silence? Or do you have too many thoughts running amok in your head and need constant radio or TV to cancel them out, creating a kind of silence under all the noise? Or maybe you’re somewhere in between. No judgment here. We just want to each know our Self.
And in the dream my Self was “bad” for not doing what was expected of me. My Self felt it had to hide or I would make myself do what was expected. And everyone could see me, even though I pretended they couldn’t.
Does this ring any bells for you? Do you have warring factions inside you…what you want to do versus what you feel compelled to do by societal expectations? Do you congratulate yourself and think no one can see the part you’re hiding? When will the hiding end?
What perhaps stands out the most for me in this dream, is that the Silence was worth it all. It was worth having my sister get angry with me; it was worth having those women (society) think I was “bad;” it was worth my own self-judgment.
For me it is in the Silence that I so easily rest in the Divine, but also in a baby sleeping on my chest, in a tiny fresh leaf budding out in the spring, in the play of colors and light in the world at large…so many ways.
If you were to take some gentle time and feel into it a bit…in what form have you found sacred moments when you truly felt at rest? Maybe you can think of many, or maybe you never identified those still moments as Divinity supporting you in your life?
Always that support is there, even when we are too busy or too untrusting to notice. So hush, Little One, it really is safe to just lay back and let go.