I
think we often re-introduce our self to ourselves, sometimes fully aware, other
times gleefully ignorant of our own presence within. We don’t hear the ‘hellos’
of an inner strength; we are surprised when we remind our self with a tap on
the shoulder, whispering, “You can do this!”, and too often we quickly grab the
hand and invite in the part of us that breeds doubt.
I
started nurturing these thoughts of ‘missed meetings with myself’ at some point
in the recent past. I'm not sure when it started, or how, or under what pretense,
but I realized that (overall) I’ve really enjoyed getting to know myself for
the past year. Meeting and inviting in these new guests wasn’t always easy or
enjoyable, and providing the right space and harmonious tension for
re-introductions to occur was- at first- difficult to create and sustain.
Where
I have found these spaces and this tension is in the silent spaces between my
thoughts. We all have these silent spaces, and they are easily overlooked,
ignored, and often a forgotten place to explore. What I’ve realized is that in
these silent spaces between our thoughts, there are parts of our life quietly
waiting to arrive. Those parts that are waiting so quietly, so patiently? When
invited to arrive, to show up, to perform- they do not fail.
Silence can quickly be pushed out by other noises competing
for our attention. The background noises that are normally denied our attention,
suddenly see their opportunity for recognition, seize it like Cesar. Although these
noises typically know their place in the background, they are well-trained to
dominate the forefront when the leading noises are sent offstage. We often
train silence to be a feeble understudy, labeled as useless and unnecessary in
the acts that construct the plays of our lives. For me, I re-introduced myself to
my inner stage mom, and silence was quickly directed as the lead for the spaces
between my thoughts.
Within this casting, silence can become its own noise; deafening
and reverberating like an airplane. Oddly, this silence can consume our ear
space most loudly, and it can consume our ear space with such density that
nothing more can get in. It acts as an innkeeper, and often doesn’t leave any
rooms as vacanct. Luckily, silence can eventually simmer and actually silence
itself. It can switch roles and become an embrace, a welcoming touch, a presence.
The silent spaces in-between, in fact, can become the part that silences our
self. The in-between spaces become small opportunities. This is where the
present stops, the future stands tall, and where we are free to explore our
inner “me’s.”
Within my own silent spaces, I encountered tangled webs; seemingly
endless free falls; and cold, unforgiving rock hard bottoms. In a space of
silence without borders, boundaries, or bylaws, it can be easy to get lost.
Getting lost within yourself when you are your own guide is one of the most
terrifying types of lost that exists. When you finally coordinate where you
are, it can be easy to deny an embrace from the silence between your thoughts;
it can be easy to run from it; it can be easy to get scared, to panic, to sit
in an emotional state of harm rather than helpfulness.
For me, these spaces of silence are a vacuum void of
color, saturated by a deafening black. When there isn’t any light being shed on
anything, though, everything becomes a possibility. This, in fact, may be the
beauty of a complete, silent darkness- a space of endless possibilities.
So that little silent space between thoughts- so tiny, yet
so encompassing of endless possibilities, that small vacuum that we so often
and so easily overlook- I encourage everyone to embrace it. The silence offers
a sweetness that goes unparalleled and unrivaled by other aspects of life. Once
discovered, it cannot be savored enough.
