Sound of Silence
I just came back from the 2-week retreat. It was the first silent meditation retreat in three and a half years for me. It meant that I had not had a chance to get still to go within for any sustained period for this long. I knew it was way over due.
At this retreat center in the hills of Santa Cruz surrounded by the redwood trees, I led a very simple, monotonous life untethered by a device. We get up at 5 o’clock in the morning and repeat the cycles of meditations, walking meditations, eating, and more meditation till 9:30 at night, interspersed with minor daily chores we get assigned for to do in silence, listening to daily Dharma talk by the teachers, and one-on-one 15-minute discussion with teachers every other day. The rest is to be with my mind and body moment by moment.
Not having been to such a retreat for this long, my mind had been basically running non-stop while life was happening at full throttle. I was putting a lot of energy into my business as a green realtor while I was also pursuing the Dharma practice with a couple of certification programs. And of course, since the pandemic shut us down, life brought so much shifting winds that my heart and mind were overloaded. I desperately needed to get quiet.
As I settled into the retreat and watched my mind slowly starting to slow down, emotions began to arise. It’s not that I was suppressing all my emotions before but I opened up for more space to feel deeply. The losses I’ve experienced in the last two years starting with my beloved kitty, with my mom’s journey for her passing, plus 5 more dear friends passing within a period of 6 months last year were very present in my heart. In fact, that’s what led Buddha to his search: Old age, sickness and death. I wasn’t afraid of them for myself, or so I thought before. As it turns out, I was more afraid of having to witness and experience the losses of my loved ones, which I became keenly aware to be happening more often as I get older. It was probably 5 days into the retreat that I came to viscerally understand this reality. I went into the forest in the back of the retreat center and cried deeply.
By half way through the retreat, I was experiencing more calmness and able to access that familiar “sound of silence.” It is the low hum that I discovered some years ago while I was in my mountain house at night thinking it was the motor of hot tub on our deck. It turns out the hum is everywhere. Some people call it, “sound of silence” — one teacher, Ajahn Sumedho calls it, the sound of “cosmic vibration.” I can hear it all the time in the mountains, but it takes a little bit of effort while I’m in the city or in motion. When everything is so fluctuating all the time, this constant hum can be soothing.
As I rested my awareness in the sound of silence while watching my thoughts come and go, I discovered that I can indeed find the confidence in myself that I will be able to hold ten thousand sorrows and ten thousand joys that are to come in my life. The teachings are so simple yet immensely profound. I am so grateful for this time of reflection and having received such wisdom, which I can lean on for weeks and months to come.