Tuesday, November 2, 2010

The Teachers - November 1, 2010 -

Owl in the black morning,

mockingbird in the burning

slants of the sunny afternoon

declare so simply

to the world

everything I have tried but still

haven't been able

to put into words,

so I do not go

far from that school...

I listen hard

to the exuberances

of the mockingbird and the owl,

the waves and the wind.

And then, like peace after perfect speech,

such stillness.

In purposeful meditation, we invite in the silence and listen to ourselves, and hence the world. In walking meditation and nature walks, we listen to what is about us, and are able to hear ourselves as we become still. So then, I ask, is there stillness without listening? Is there listening without stillness? The two seem like a pair of wings of liberated interdependence. Perhaps stillness is not a state to invite or at which to arrive, but is woven into the chatter of house wren, the beating of our heart, and the spat with a loved one. Each is perfect speech, yelling at us that we can love, even still.

Where do you encounter the silence?

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