The days are long but a whole year, a lifetime, a decade flashes in a blink of an eye. That’s how I feel like, most days. One second, I complain about the house chores I have to do, thinking I could put my time to better use, the next second, I’m writing an article and already preparing to sleep.
Today, I learned how to be still. I’ve heard it so many times before – Meditations, 14 Prompts, pretty much every Paulo Coelho book. They talk about the virtue of silence.
I learned – or rather realized – that I have been quiet for most of my life, but I haven’t been really silent. I have been working on it all my life. I want silence. I want peace.
There are few truly precious moments when you feel one with the universe. When all the stars and planets seem to align. When there can’t be a drop of rain during the day. It’s a breeze to be silent during those times. You’re pretty much in awe to be disturbed at such moments. There are, however, times when the universe, both inside and outside yourself scream. Times when you couldn’t hear your friend’s voice, God’s voice, your voice.
Being alone is part of being a person. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It is, after all, BEING ALONE, not being LONELY. There are moments when you are surrounded with loved ones and you have to seclude yourself in some way to appreciate what you have. This is the good kind of silence. These are the moments when you can listen to the noise of the universe, make sense of them, and keep them as beautiful memories. Moments when you step back, look around you, discover that you have everything you need to be happy, and smile. A moment when the stars align.
There are, however, silences that makes the world a blur. The kind of silence that the chaotic universe is forcing you to like hearing something you don’t like and not talking about it, then forgetting you even heard it. This is the kind of silence that brings out helplessness. This is the perception of the person in the passenger seat. They like the destination. They want to skip the journey to spare themselves of the trouble. They’re probably there just to hitchhike. They look out the window and see houses and trees rushing past them. They don’t control the wheel.
What I want is the kind of silence that puts the world in slow motion. The world from the driver’s perspective. They want to reach the destination, too. It’s just not what they’re thinking about as of the moment. They just care about the wheel, the car, the road, and the occasional dog or old lady that crosses it. They live and pay attention to the moment, otherwise, they might miss something and run over the old lady. This is the kind of silence I covet. The kind that I instill upon the world. The kind that urges me to see what’s before me. The kind that urges me to be present.