Silence Beckons

In order to see birds,

it is necessary to become part of the silence.

- Robert Lynd

As I read this quote about silence, I am reminded of sitting on a bench near the edge of Mississippi backwaters with a dear friend one day last fall.  She was needing a friend to listen as her heart was grieving the loss of a friend who had died.  This friend has an ability to "see" in the silence.  As we sat there, she could spot turtles and fish under the surface of the water.  It took me awhile to adapt to the looking and to silence myself and focus my attention into the water.  Eventually, I remember spotting the turtle there that she had been following all along. 

I so enjoy being with people who have these eyes to see, but more importantly, who have the heart to dwell in the silence.

Another friend who I've longed to know from the depths, once described himself as a turtle and reminded me that he wears many shells to protect himself.  To see his vulnerability, I need to listen from the silence of my heart and patiently wait, quietly, gently...  He pokes his head out once in awhile and I know that I need to deepen the silence in my welcoming of his fragile, precious nature in order for him to truly be seen willingly.

Last night I was listening to another friend who recently faced the loss of his first wife suddenly.  His grieving is making itself known through many places in his body, soul and spirit.  His capacity to welcome whatever arrives has always amazed me.  He, too, knows how to be silent and to listen in order to see each and every visitor.

I am grateful for the silence of presence and the silence of listening.  I am grateful for the seeing and the knowing of every encounter encouraged by the gift of silence.  I realize that the visitors we are able to see and to know in the silence are always around and the meeting will happen when we are ready. 

Who have you been able to see and know, to truly meet when you have truly become a part of the silence itself?

Hiding in Plain Sight

Over the holidays, I went through bunches of old magazines and clipped images for a collage I created over the New Year's weekend.  This collage is focused on the seasons of the year.  One of the images I found in an old Smithsonian magazine is an image of a lion hiding in grasses that are the colors of the lion itself.  I placed it in the west or autumn portion of my collage.  Since I found this photo, I have been reflecting on questions to explore this theme, like:

What kinds of things am I aware of that are 'hiding in plain sight'?

How might the harvest of this new year be represented by the lion and what does the hidden quality of the lion speak to?

Being a Leo, what parts of me are not being seen, yet are fully present whether seen or unseen?

Once you ask yourself these questions, it is as though someone besides yourself is listening and then, pointers to the possibilities to explore them further begin to appear everywhere.  Images, poetry, inner images, feelings, and thoughts...  One image I found most intriguing was a photo sent to me in a daily email along with a poem.  The image is that of a female lion's dark shadow on a wall of stone.  It makes you look twice...is that the lion or is it its shadow--you ask yourself...  And that leads me to ask myself what is it I am really seeing?  Am I looking at what is really represented or a shadow/mirror image of the real?  What appears to be real may, in fact, be an external representation of something more.  What is that something more?  

I expect I will continue to explore this theme throughout my year, as it is being given to me as a gift, a messenger seeking to bring some insight, consciousness, and perhaps, guidance for my journey this year.

To close this particular entry, I'd like to share a poem by Jane Hirschfield which has its own pointers in it, as well.

The Kingdom

 

At times
the heart
stands back
and looks at the body,
looks at the mind,
as a lion
quietly looks
at the not-quite-itself,
not-quite-another,
moving of shadows and grass.

 

Wary, but with interest,
considers its kingdom.

 

Then seeing
all that will be,
heart once again enters --
enters hunger, enters sorrow,
enters finally losing it all.
To know, if nothing else,
what it once owned.

 

 (from The October Palace)

Welcoming What Is

January 14, 2010

Listening to birds this morning--a cawing bird outside my window asks for something, or is she proclaiming something. The caws change from a rapid series to single syllables, and then, I hear a meeting with another voice chiming in...now more slow and single syllables... Ahhhh, the sounds of life are active all around me and touch my soul with a reminder of my voice. I can share it here without speaking aloud and yet each word has its own sound in the silence of the heart and soul that reads and receives it.

We connect in this life we share. Each day brings new encounters, invitations to welcome the life in you and in me.

What stirs my soul is also a blessing and grace met by the spiritual world. To know my soul is met by something more than me is comforting and brings strength to my trust in living.