Enter Silence, and you will see the world that God created. Enter Silence, and you will see that you are that God, the creator. Enter Silence, and you will see that you are that world, the created. God, the world, and you are one and the same in Silence.

This is what all sages know and say: enter Silence, and leave yourself behind in the rubble of thoughts, and time, and death. Enter Silence, and become the creator and the created. Enter Silence, and life is suddenly real—beautiful and perfect in each curve and angle.

This is called awakening, awakening into truth.

How does one awaken into truth and Silence? Surrender. And how does one surrender? By giving everything away. Everything.

Giving everything away, we enter the world of Silence, the temple of truth, and know that the creator and the created are one, and we are that one. But we must give everything away, everything must be given away. We have to give away our huge inventory of unreleased thoughts and beliefs, our undigested experiences, our past and our future—even our present must be given away. We give away our disappointments and sorrows. We give away our joys. Yes, even our joys. Nothing can remain. Everything must be given away. We must empty our storehouses and warehouses of past, present, and future, of self and no-self, of cherished beliefs, of fears and anxieties—and then burn them down so nothing can ever accumulate again.

By giving everything away, by letting everything go as soon as it occurs, we return to clarity, to freedom, to eternal openness. This is called living in Silence. We give everything away that can be given away, and then we give more. We can’t understand this rationally, can we? Nonetheless, it can be done. It does happen. It is a miracle.

Give away meaning and purpose, give away happiness. Give away morality, ethics, commandments…dogma, rhetoric, churches and temples, give everything back to Silence. Give all to Silence. For it is in Silence that God is working, in Silence God is playing, in Silence God is loving. In Silence, it is we who become that God, working, playing, loving. This is called awakening to truth. This is called living in form as the formless one, the Silent one.

And the hands, the ones that have been giving everything away? Give them away. With what? It doesn’t matter. Don’t think, just give the hands away. And then the giving…give that away…let it all go. This body? Let it go. Give it away. This mind? Away. These eyes…away…become blind. These ears…gone…now deaf. Without eyes, there is only Silence. Without ears, there is only Silence. This is what we see and hear when all is given away.

What about our very life, the one we so believe in, the one we so love, the one we so try to improve and perfect? Give it away. And our will, the one we use to make things happen, to have our way, to get what we want? Give it away. But then how will things happen, without us? In Silence, things happen. How do they happen? I don’t know. Who initiates the action? I don’t know. What are the reasons for the action? I don’t know. What are the outcomes of the action? I don’t know. In Silence, there is no one to know. Only Silence knows. But this Silent knowing is perfect, this Silent action is perfect. Everything happens perfectly, coming from beyond time into time, from beyond space into space, from beyond words into words.

People come with problems…they say, “this bad thing is happening to me.” I say, “Good. Wonderful. You can use this to surrender more deeply. Don’t try to solve the problem, fix the problem, or get what you want…give it all away. You will become a miracle.”

If what you want is freedom, if you want is to be awake, then surrender all. Surrender your arrogance, and your humility. Surrender your self, and what is not yourself. Surrender your ignorance and your knowledge, surrender even surrender. When you cannot give anymore, when you are at the very end, the absolute end, when all has been given up, given away, surrendered, even then, take one more step towards Silence.

When there is only emptiness, give away the emptiness. When you have given away so much there is only death, give death away. Give everything away. Hold nothing. Hold nothing. Do not accumulate anything. Give it away. Desires? Nothing but thoughts. Let them go. Insults? Give away the righteous burning of pride and vanity. Anything that remains is in the way, so give it away. Let it go. It wants to go. Everything wants to go on its way. Don’t hold them back. Let them go.

Hear a mallet on a drumhead. Hear it? There is the initial thud, and then a moment or two of reverberation. Then it is gone. The sound must go. Do not hold it in your mind. Let it go. If you don’t, you won’t hear the next rhythmic beat. You will only hear what has already happened. If what has already happened is not released, you will only hear the echoes of concepts, of memory. You will not hear the music of Silence, of life. And without this music, we become sad and lonely.

Let everything go. Please. Let it go. When everything has been given away, only Silence remains. Not even a self remains, for that has been given away. The giver is given away. The self is given away. Thoughts are given away. Words are given away. Resistance is given away. Will is given away. Nothing remains. Nothing remains. Only Silence.

In Silence, we transform, we become reborn, we are resurrected from darkness to light. From confusion to clarity. From suffering to ease. From anxiety to freedom. Let everything go, so it may return, as Silence.

From within this surrender, from within this emptiness, from within this constant return to openness is a new life, a whole life, a joyous life. It is miraculous and cannot be explained. It cannot be anticipated. It cannot be controlled. It cannot be fathomed. It can only be lived, and in this living we become real, we live in reality. Within reality, there is more joy, more pleasure, more peace, more contentment than we can ever hope for. How does all of this happen? I don’t know. But it does. Within Silence, letting all things go, our truest life happens, our highest purpose is fulfilled, our greatest longing is realized. How does this happen? I don’t know. No one knows. But it does.

You will become nothing, and thus become everything. You will need nothing, and thus have everything. You will be open, and thus all things can happen. You will be without pretense, and thus sincere; without masks, and thus authentic; without cleverness, and thus honest; without guile, and thus trustworthy. All because you become nothing, by giving everything away. With nothing to protect, only peace remains. This is what we love about the holy ones, the sages. How does this happen? No one knows. But it does.

If you can’t give it away, throw it away, fling it away, kick it away. Just don’t let it stay. Let nothing stay. Hold nothing. Keep nothing: neither the sadness nor the joy, neither the fear nor the courage, not even realization, not even insight, not even enlightenment. Let everything go. And then the hands that hold, and the hands that release. And the thought of surrender, and surrender. All of it goes. From Silence to Silence. Just that.

How long can you hold your breath? If you hold it too long, you will die. So it is with everything else. If you hold it too long, you will die. How long is too long? Even one second is too long, for in the first second of holding you are dying, and in the second second of holding you are dead. Even one second is too long. Breathe out, let it go. Breathe out, let it go. Hold nothing.

Then, in Silence, you will be moved by that which moves all else. You will move with everything, as everything, without knowing how, or why, or when. But you will move. And you will be free. And you will be love. This is freedom. This is truth.

I was a participant with about 20 others in a meeting whose purpose was to inquire into truth. The meeting was led by Jean Klein, an elderly Belgian teacher of non-dualism. We were sitting in folding chairs or cross-legged on the carpeted floor or on the couch that had been moved to the back of the large living room. Jean was perhaps 80 at the time, white haired and translucent, the embodiment of Silence. He was like a waterfall of pure acceptance. Standing beneath his spray I breathed with lungs I didn’t know I had.

He would say a few words and then fall silent. Someone might venture a question. He would respond. Then more Silence. We passed the morning like that. His speaking was itself a form of Silence, each word coming slowly, with precision, from a deep well. You could almost hear his mind falling like an empty pail into an invisible depth, filling, and then being drawn up by his careful voice.

We stopped at about noon, and went outside for lunch. I sat with Jean and a few others at a picnic table. We ate slowly, silently, still appreciating the atmosphere of the morning. It seemed to me that we were all attentive, mindful of what we were saying and doing, respectful of others, listening with our entire bodies to the total environment. It was natural, without technique or effort. It was simply a condition that had been established of its own accord.

We ate ice cream for dessert. Then, as we sat together on the benches with elbows and forearms collapsed on the tabletop, the world dissolved. I took a breath, and it was my last.

There is perception, but no perceiver! There is perception, but no perceived! All worry is worry about me and my body; I’m just an idea and not really worth worrying about. Love is this … no other … nothing other … only this wholeness …

Everything I’ve ever thought is just ridiculous. My God, we should all just sit down and shut up and not move—that would really be the best thing.What are these electrical flashes and currents? This is all energy! Pure energy, vibrating and singing!

I simply disappeared, but remained present, as an awareness. I looked up and saw the sky and the clouds, but the seeing was with eyes that were not mine. I looked at the others, and saw myself. Everything was bright and radiant. It was so simple and so awesome. There were cognitions, but they were too fine for words, and they passed quickly, as a silent commentary on the pure feeling of just being, everywhere at once.

It seemed that everything was alive in a way I had never noticed. The grass of the lawn, the dirt clumps at the base of a lemon tree, its bark; at the end of the bench was a woman whose hair shone; the air itself—all this was alive, breathing, growing, moving in something, a kind of force, a comforting presence. When I looked at something, it looked back. There was no separation, no difference. I did not own this seeing; it was not mine, not my eyes.

A cognition that came several times was how beautiful, how beautiful. I thought of all I had read and studied and learned, all I had experienced. Then I laughed. I thought of the worries and fears and hopes with which I was often concerned. Then I laughed. I thought of myself. Then I laughed. It was pure laughter, joyous as never before, not because of anything, but in and of itself. Who was thinking? I don’t know. Who was laughing? I don’t know. There was no solid center, no place I could call “me.” Like salt in water, I lost my granular self.

It was the most marvelous calamity, the most terrific loss: a falling away of self, all in an instant. I knew, without knowing, this creation is alive and conscious. This creation is beautiful, this creation is beheld silently in wonder and awe. A conscious presence lives at the center of all things, underneath all things, within all things. There is an order to life that is out of time. It is eternal, but fully present and revealed in each moment, in each thing. The Silence grew deeper and the loss more total.

There was just pure existence. If there was thought or movement, if there was discussion and laughter, it happened by itself, to no one in particular. Things seemed far off because they happened to no one, but everything glowed brightly, clearly, so full of itself, the presence.

So much was lost, and so much gained. It was so apparent, how did I miss it? Here, now, in this very minute, as we are, seated at a picnic table, eating ice cream, is depth upon depth of loveliness and silent beauty. My God, how much I love this creation that I am!

There is so much order, intelligence, and fullness in the creation that we are. There is so much beauty, so much love, so much tenderness. This is what reality is. We find ourselves in this loss of self, in the opening to mystery, in seeing the luminous presence that brightens all things.

I would say that we must realize this, but it is already realized. I would say that we must return to this seeing and knowing, but we have never left. I would say that we must find this within ourselves, but it exists equally without. I can only affirm that we are this silent beauty, that we do live as the living presence in all things, that we are love.

If we’re going to use the word “soul” in a business context, we’d better define it, we’d better understand it’s meaning clearly. Otherwise, this single word—so often thought of as abstract, esoteric, and impractical – will probably create much confusion, doubt, and maybe even cynicism. Let me tell you what I mean by soul, and how I think it relates to our work lives in very practical and useful ways.

I use the word soul as a poetic image that refers to a life of significant meaning born of deep inner exploration. The soul refers to a dimension of living which opens before us from time to time with such compelling force that we fall to our knees in silence and awe and gratitude. Soul refers to those gorgeous moments of self-transcendence, of love, of joy, of communion with the whole of existence in which our seeing becomes acute, and our knowing becomes wise.

When these disruptions to our conventional way of living occur, it’s as though we see another dimension of life about which we were ignorant. The mask of appearances falls away, and we see something profound about life. We experience something that is timeless. It’s beyond words, and the mind hardly grasps it. In these moments, the fortifications against the soul dissolve, and a new perspective appears.

Let’s go into this a bit deeper and see what this soul perspective implies for us. Take a moment to please remember a time when you experienced an awakening to the fuller and deeper meaning of being alive. Try to remember a time in which you were lifted by the hand of grace into a feeling of unconditional joy, abundance, and generosity. From this perspective and in this remembrance, what do we know about the what I am calling the soul and its importance to our work lives?

The soul implies a real and living connection to others. Recognizing this connection with others means that we must treat others with respect, kindness, compassion, and dignity. Who would not like to be treated in this manner?

Soul implies beauty. This means that our actions must preserve the natural beauty of life in all its manifestations. Recognizing the natural beauty of life, we will not destroy, pollute, defile, or degrade anything. This is a sound principle to guide us in our business decisions, is it not?

Soul implies truth. This means we must speak the truth, we must be accountable for our actions, and we must be straightforward in our dealings with each other and with the communities of which we are a part. Recognizing this, we are bound to honesty and full disclosure of our actions. This would be a refreshing stance for business leaders to take, don’t you think?

Soul implies balance and harmony. This means we must keep our priorities in order and give equal time to our own personal growth, to our families, to our communities – to those pursuits and activities that enrich our whole life. Recognizing the need for balance, we will not be compulsive or greedy, we will not sacrifice the integrity of this moment for a future promise. This will keep us sane, healthy, and energetic.

Soul implies universality. This means that we are all shareholders in certain basic values. What do we all want? We all want to be appreciated, to be accepted, to make a positive contribution to others. We want to feel that our lives and our labors make a positive difference. We want to give, to serve, to be the reason for someone else’s happiness and well-being. I would like to think that we all are servants of other people’s happiness.

Soul implies inspiration, and deep passion. This means that we live and work from our hearts, from what we truly love. If we follow our hearts to work, we will not need to be motivated by some cheap management trick to give our best effort. Our heart will always ask us to give our best, for the sake of love and passion. We will not need to be bribed. Enthusiasm, cooperation, and commitment are the hallmarks of a heartfelt life. Is there anything we could not accomplish, together, working from and with our hearts?

Soul implies joy. This means that we work from joy, with joy, and towards joy. This is not a Pollyanna principle, because I think that everything we do in life is for the sake of joy. Let’s be honest about it: no one likes to work in an environment of tedium, depression, and sadness. Let joy be our standard: if joy is present, we are doing things right, and doing things well. If not, we are doing things wrong, and we should stop and figure out how to get back on track.

Soul implies going beyond conventional boundaries. This means we should always feel free to risk new ideas, new approaches to old problems. This means we should develop our minds and bodies and spirits so that they shine with creativity and innovation. Recognizing this, we welcome boldness, diversity, and initiative. We should be open to continuous learning and growth, not just in business strategies, but in living. I hope that we are all growing in self-awareness each day.

Soul implies clarity and awareness. This mean that we speak and act consciously, and conscientiously. Being conscious means being aware of those impulses, motives, and intentions that drive us. Conscious awareness is the moment-to-moment clarity of motive and intent. It is a balanced alignment among thought, word, and action.

Awareness means to be deeply in touch with our thoughts and emotions every moment. Awareness means that we are able to see what is actually happening around us, and not just our own projected fantasies and ideas of what is happening. Being conscious is a commitment to an ongoing process of self-inquiry, of discovery, of illuminating the unlit aspects of our subconscious that often drive us without our knowing it.

This is what I mean by soul at work. I do not presume to be the authority in this; I do not want you to think I am laying down an exact formula. But if we continue this line of inquiry in our respective workplaces, I believe we will open up great and wonderful possibilities. I believe any organization that encourages such a dialogue will stand at the very forefront of meaningful change and progress. I believe that such organizations will be known as much for what they do as how they do it; such organizations will be known as much for their products and services as for their ethics, values, and principles.

Liberating and nourishing the human soul within the workplace is a gift the world sorely needs at this time. Please be generous in your giving.

Thich Nhat Hanh’s talk was less about information than experience. The words were like a tour bus carrying the audience to ancient sites of meaning and depth and beauty. Though the bus was still and unmoving, we traveled far and saw much. Anyone could have dropped a tack or a nail file, even a piece of paper, and the noise would have seemed loud because the Silence was so great.

After some time, I felt the audience breathe in unison, a meditative breathing, a breathing that connected us together and to the awareness of which the monk was speaking. I thought I was sitting in the mountains at twilight, when life itself begins to creep from its hiding places like a deer come to drink from a lake of pentagrams and stars.

Even when speaking, the monk was silent, was Silence. In order to hear his words of Silence and the Silence within his words, the audience had to be silent and become Silence. It was a spectacle. We were embraced by Silence and thus set free from agitation, from separation, from duality. It would have been impossible for any anger or cruelty to arise in that community. It would have been impossible for anyone to harm another in any way. We were transported to reality.

The world needs this Silence. Leaders, like the monk, will be of this Silence. Their minds will be silent, their actions will be silent, their hearts will be silent.

Silence cannot be explained. It cannot be known or experienced in a way that might be familiar to us, as we are used to experiencing other events in our life. However, when we say beauty or love, and when we are meeting those two in a pure and honest place, then we can say that Silence has come into our life.

We can only use words to point in the direction of Silence, such that if one actually goes into the distance towards which the words point, one will eventually come upon Silence as a fact. When Silence is beheld as a fact, all speculation, argument, and belief about that to which the word Silence refers ends instantly and forever.

Silence is that in which everything exists, from which everything comes, and into which everything returns. It is the unutterable context in which the cosmos occurs, a playground of pure consciousness.

Silence is oneness. Silence refers to a state of fundamental unified existence, a condition of being in which all conflict, fear, doubt, projection, memory, delusions – all subjectivity and objectivity – are dissolved and thus resolved. Silence is an instantaneous recognition of that which is out of time and unconditioned by cause and effect. If one were a religious person, one could say that Silence is the soul of God, or perhaps the God of God.

If this sounds abstract, vague, or esoteric, it only sounds so because we cannot say exactly what Silence is. Some things are so very beyond the reach of words and metaphors, symbols and images, beliefs and concepts that all attempts to describe them are foolish. And yet, even as we speak foolishly and impertinently of that which cannot be said, something within us will smile knowingly. It is this intuitive resonance that words can stimulate.

This is the direction we can point to and go toward, walking or running, in order for the recognition of the wordless to become real. But even as Silence becomes indomitably real, as taut and tense and thrilling as a tidal wave crashing upon us, crushing us beyond recognition—even as this happens, we cannot speak its truth.

Any disciplined practice that involves focusing the mind will eventually lead to Silence. Spiritual methods such as meditation techniques, chanting mantras, yoga, tai chi—all of these will lead to Silence. Self-inquiry will lead to Silence. So will martial arts, and dance, and art. So will rock climbing and skydiving. So will cooking and eating. So will playing and loving. Everything will lead to Silence, because Silence is the life force behind everything. It is the oxygen without which everything would fall over dead, flash frozen. Since all things lead to Silence, we must follow the echoes of Silence, inward, to the source of all things within us.

Being led to Silence might imply that Silence is somewhere else. This is only a figure of speech. Silence is always the first thing and the last thing. It is always present, but very subtle, so we must therefore learn to recognize it. The direction of Silence is any direction. There is no place that Silence is not, although we cannot apprehend it with our senses or with our minds.

Still, let me suggest a foolproof way of coming into Silence quickly, so that Silence becomes a fact for us. First, we must develop the ability to distinguish one thought from another. When we can do this, we must then develop the ability to see clearly the space between two thoughts. When that space becomes large and stable enough for us to drive a truck through it, we will know Silence as a fact.

In the very center of universal manifestation, one finds swirling gusts of Silence, vast galactic streamers millions of light years long. If we try to understand this Silence through our mind, we’ll never understand it. Silence is realized in a moment of communion, in a moment of losing our separation from life. The underlying truth of existence is Silence.

Silence embraces everything and cannot be known because to know Silence, we would have to be separate from Silence, and Silence would then be an object of our perception and of our knowing. Silence refers to that which is beyond this dualism of knower and known. Silence becomes a fact when we and life become an inseparable whole. Even though we are trying to define it, no definition of Silence is accurate. We don’t want to think that by defining it, we can know it. Silence is knowable only to itself, and we come into that knowing through an alchemy of self-transcendence.

We can only create a definition that points to Silence. The truth of reality is silent. It is undisturbed. It is causeless. It is out of time, out of space, non-dual. Silence is the preeminent nothingness in which the universe dances in spectacular and mysterious ways.

If Silence is the United States, then intuition is Ellis Island, the first stop of immigrants seeking asylum. Intuition is the first hint, the first experience of the far greater country of Silence. Intuition is not a tool, but rather an intelligence that uses us. We might not see this right away. Intuition is willing to be used, but only for a time. One day, it will require that we suspend our goals and objectives, our plans and aspirations, for a fuller recognition of what intuition is, what it represents. We will come to see that intuition is the ambassador of Silence, and we must serve that Silence, for it is the soul of the world.

In the instant of intuitive perception, we are taken wholly into that power of knowing which is beyond the mind. In going beyond the mind, we go beyond all notions of self and identity, of thought and belief, of perceiver and perceived. A photograph of the intuitive flash would show only light. There would be no other image, only light. The light of intuition is the light of consciousness.

Intuition is Ellis Island, the gateway to freedom. In order to be free, we must want freedom, we must be willing to leave behind the old countries of control and manipulation from which we have come. We cannot come to this new country with ideas of exploitation, as gangsters. We have to come as servants of the new freedom. We have to learn new ways of living. We have to become students of Silence and freedom in order to learn how to live without fear, without violence, without cruelty.

The world needs this Silence. The world needs people who know and serve Silence.

I used to lead a weekly class in Mill Valley. People would come by and we’d meditate for a while, and then I’d usually give a talk, followed by some lively dialogues with whoever showed up. There was a core group of people who came nearly every week, including one young woman who drove up from San Jose, a three hour round-trip. One of the regulars would follow along for a while, sinking into her own silence and breathing, happy to let go of herself and her ideas. But then something in her would snap, and she would bark out, “What does this have to do with reality?” She understood me up to a point, and I understood her up to a point. To me, what we were and are speaking about, a mystery of incomparable depths and dimensions, is reality. My friend’s reality was limited to what she could see and feel and control and affect. She was always most interested in finding new strategies to get her way, to realize her ambitions, to get and to have. She talked of mastering her life; I talked of serving life. This is why I said earlier that we are reality challenged. Our society has built a single lane road, one of materialism, which we use to travel on through reality. No wonder there is so much traffic and so many accidents!

The world that is perceptible to our senses and the world of our concepts and beliefs is certainly a part of reality, but it is so tiny as to barely be a blip on the screen. Unless what convention calls the real world is put in the proper context and perspective, it is no more than a dream. A dream. A mystic knows this. Spiritual experiences help us to loosen our grip on the materialistic view of reality as the dominant one. They help us to soften and expand the boundaries of who we think we are.

We must each find the connection with reality through our own investigation of self, mind, and reality. The mystical experience is a wild sea in which wave upon wave of depth and significance crash over us; layers, facets, and dimensions of the great mystery open and befriend us. It is, as John Lee Hooker said, “Yes! Yes! So sweet!”

The mysticism I know is simple: it is the silence that falls upon us in a moment of beauty, of creation, of love, of communion, of deep reflection. The word mysticism has come, colloquially, to represent the arcane, the abstract, the remote, the mysterious; however, the exact opposite is true. It means, literally, to experience an immediate connection with life itself. As simple as it is, a lot can get in the way of our experience of life. We have to be reminded, or awakened, or jolted into a recollection of the obvious and self-evident simplicity mysticism implies.

Within each person is a depth of being that is silent, and that silence embraces the entire universe: rock, salamander, iris, and sun. The experience of silence is exquisite and so different from our conventional mode of experience that it can scarcely be spoken of, let alone taught as most things are taught. There are many paths of and to silence. My path took me to the East, to India, where I studied with a meditation master. I learned that silence is, itself, the great teacher, the great explainer, the great illuminator. Silence is chronic and compulsive intuition and spontaneity. It is a light spring rain from a cloudless sky beyond the reach of the mind. That rain is spiritual nourishment to all living things, and all things are living.

Mysticism refers to the self-transcendent clarity that is found in silence, in love, in beauty, in the explosive aftermath of poetry and music, in the awesome fact of forests and mountains, in the revelry of lovemaking and carnivals of eroticism, in the rhythms of dance and the cadence of song, chant, and prayer. The mystic is in love with that which will not brook any formulation. It cannot be turned into principles and paradigms. It is too free, endlessly creative, and joyful for any of that.

The mystic language is not meant to inform, convince, or persuade; the words are as missiles meant to stop the mind with a judder, to collapse reason, time, and self. In the collapsed rubble, spontaneity lurks, and the silence-infested clarity of reality purrs loudly.

The best I can do, by way of teaching what can’t be taught, is to invoke silence. This silence is of utmost importance, much more so than anything I or anyone else can say. The mysticism I know, I can only point to: an exquisite silence within the deep core of each human being which can be directly experienced. This inner silence is itself the true seat of power and teacher of wisdom. I learn from this silence. I see from this silence. Silence opens the heart and clears the mind. I trust this silence to provide clarity, courage, and truth. This is what I trust, and this is what I know inheres in each person: a clear mind and an open heart. It is not enough to agree or disagree; in order to be authentic, the indwelling silent beauty must be realized by each one of us. Otherwise, we will be merely the stooges of gossip and rumor and reality by agreement.

This kind of knowing is transmitted to us as pure revelation, as clarity untouched by words or other symbols of meaning. When we allow this knowing into our minds, our very lives become as clear and startling as this knowing.

This silent knowing unifies and makes whole what had seemed piecemeal and fragmented. In this wholeness, we experience a oneness of being in which internal and external conflicts are resolved in an encompassing unity. For purposes of conversation, we must name this silent intelligence, this wholeness of being and clarity of perception. It has been named before: Self, Source, Being, Presence, Atman, Tao, Soul. I will refer to it as Silence, for that is what it is and that is how we experience it. Silence is the sacred hub of the universe out of which everything appears and around which everything revolves.

Silence is not a thing which can be held in the hand, like a brick, nor is it an abstraction, like patriotism, a mere idea which we enliven with our own energy. Silence is pure primordial awareness: the transcendently intelligent current of life that animates everything in existence. Silence is what holds us, and Silence is what gives us energy. It is towards Silence that we turn for sustenance and guidance in times of confusion, fear, doubt, and sadness. We seem to intuit that Silence is the antidote for our ailments and answers to our questions.

We do not, however, have to wait for a precipitating life event to remind us of Silence. We can learn to live such that we sense Silence speaking to us constantly, guiding us constantly, inspiring us constantly. We can learn to allow Silence into our life every moment, which is to say that we must learn to pay attention to Silence, which is always present, even in the midst of our busy and complex lives.

Learning to pay attention to Silence is easy; in fact, it requires virtually no technique or method. We simply have to be still, be still, until the soft thickness and weightless presence of Silence comes forward. We have to learn to feel that which surrounds us.

Within each of us are mountains and meadows, forests and deserts, oceans and glacial lakes, vast stretches of uninhabited wilderness, endless skies of light and darkness, slowly-turning galaxies—each and all of which exist in and as Silence. This is why we seek these things in the “external” world, because they immediately invoke Silence, and Silence comes forth to claim us. In stillness, we automatically find ourselves in the midst of those ancient stands of redwoods, those craggy cliffs, those peaks rising beyond where our eyes can see. And then Silence appears. Be still, and Silence appears. The Indian poet Kabir fell into Silence within himself, and he wrote, “I reached the place inside me where the world is breathing.”

We have all experienced intimations of Silence and we have all experienced its cleansing effect on the confusion, fear, and doubt of the mind. Silence is outside of time, outside of convention, outside of expectation, outside of self-concept. This is the place in which the whole world breathes. It is a place known to us, though we may not remember; familiar, though we may not admit it; treasured, though we may discount it; utterly real, though we cannot prove it.

Silence simply is, without qualification or condition

When we enter the sacred hub of Silence, we are able to answer the questions of living through being. The only impediment is the outward turned mind which creates, projects, and identifies with imaginary things. To neutralize our belief in imaginary things, we sit, simply, with our minds turned inward, with our bodies given over to the pristine wilderness within us.

There is a natural expansion of awareness that occurs in Silence. This expansive awareness is innate. This silent awareness speaks without words and acts without thought. Whether speaking or acting, Silence is striking and sudden; its clarity is spontaneous.

We might think that only special people are endowed with Silence. This is not true. No one is more Silent than you. No one is more true than you. No one knows how to live better than you. Look silently into a mirror. What you see is Silence, truth, and knowledge. All we have to do is see what is within us, and then we will see it everywhere. We tend to discount our own capacity to know Silence now, as we are. We tend to distrust the spontaneous knowing that comes to us from Silence, because it often contradicts and violates the conventions of our own thinking. It is easier to pretend that someone else has come upon the shores of Silence, not us.