“When silence told me to shut up” — 43/100
I’m going to post something I wrote for a weekly email because it very clearly describes what I’ve been going through. Not only because I want to capitalize on my writing (share one time’s work more than once), but to share what one of my weekly emails looks like. If you like, there’s a subscribe link chilling at the bottom of this post. Enjoy!
When silence told me to shut up
I think I have potential, just like everyone else does. And I feel like this moment, the present, is the connection between myself and my potential. It feel like it’s my potential unfolding right from where I am.
It’s just, right now, I’m not sure what my role is in the unfolding. Do I work harder? Do I search farther? Do I network more? What do I need to do?
After encountering similar messages through different people and occurrences, I think I have a better idea.
I’m returning to silence. It’s been a while. I remember thinking, a while back, when I started becoming more active in my life as an adult*, going places, doing things, meeting people, whether I’d ever need to come back to silence. And here I am. Full circle.
It’s interesting. I feel myself unraveling. Like watching a single thread pulling away from the fabric, with such deliberate naturalness. I’m just watching it happen. I don’t need to do anything about it. I don’t need to struggle. I don’t need to make it go faster. I just need to be here, and watch it.
When I close my eyes and focus on the space behind my eyes, the thread picks up speed, as if it’s attached to a rock that’s been dropped. I have no control over it and have no desire to control it. I know it needs to happen. I know it’s going to happen no matter what. It’s a sweet release, not just the unraveling, but the fact that it’s happening and I get to watch it. It’s a sweet release accepting that it’s a part of my life at this moment. It’s a sweet release knowing that in the end, my evolution — because that’s what this is — is unfolding the best for me, in me, through me.
I’m not afraid, though I do feel moments of worry, a little anxiety, a little skepticism. Like, is it really okay to let go? Can I?
There’s a part of me that answers, You’re fine, it’s going to be okay.
And then there’s the deep that says, Shush, be quiet.
It says nothing but that. There is no explanation. There is no detail or disclaimer. There is no agenda.
There is only silence. There is only quiet. There is only me.
And I’m remembering what it means to rest in that. I’m remembering what it was like before all the positive thinking, all the things I want to do in my life, all the things I think, hope, want, always on the go, always moving, always doing.
I’m remembering what it’s like, what it feels like to be. Not in theory. In practice. It’s neither good nor bad. In the end, it’s Good.
I think I understand I desperately and absolutely need this silence, this vacuum void of opinions, ideas, perspective, desires. I feel like where I am is transition. I’m in the process of reinventing and recreating myself and I think that happens deep in the quiet, in the stillness.
When a fetus is formed, it happens in the silence of the mother’s womb, in the seemingly stillness of her fluids, warmth, and being. Neither fetus nor mother are aware of the processes that occur to arrive at the end of birth, but creative intelligence knows. All the cells, molecules know and they work and move accordingly. They don’t need to ask, to learn, to be guided. They are the force of life, just by being. They need no feedback or encouragement. They are what they are. They do what they do.
I think silence lets us return to that, to the quiet in which we were once formed — and are still being formed today.
Those who take the time to lean into the silence respect and honor the process, their life force. Those who respect and honor their life force, lean into the silence.
So, today, as I’ve been sitting and not thinking, I’m remembering who I am. I don’t need to know why — for now. I don’t need to know how — for now. I don’t need to know much, do much, say anything. I’m here. And being present, fully present, is the gift I receive from the universe, and the gift I give to the universe.
I hope, wherever you are, friend, you are able to find space, time, quiet to let yourself be. To rest after what already feels like a lifetime of chasing, wishing, lacking, doing, working, performing, acting… You are home. You have always been home.
Let yourself be and, when the time comes, you will watch yourself go.
Originally published at gracejyk.com on June 14, 2017.