Meditation: Nurturing Silence
We turn dependent on background noises. Walkman and MTV go the security cover of today's teenager. Young grownups alumnus to CD's, and DVD's. The more than mature grownup settle downs for talking radiocommunication or CNN. Talking autos announce, "You left your visible lights on." The Internet states us, "You've got mail." We are on the qui vive at the sound of a neighbor's auto alarm, an ambulance, fire engine, or police force siren. The sound of the rapid theodolite in the distance, or a airplane overhead, can trip memories of recent holidays or the sense of haste hr commutes. It is difficult for me to conceive of the silence experienced by the deaf.
My 3rd class instructor taught us a batch about silence. When the noise degree of the schoolroom became a distraction to learning she simply stood in presence of the social class waiting. In her upraised manus she held a pin. All eyes faced forward, activity ceased, oral cavities were clamped shut. We all wanted to hear the pin driblet to the floor.
Over the old age I have got learned other lessons about silence. I have got learned that you make not necessitate the isolation of a monastery to happen seclusion. You can make your ain private chamber, insulated with quietness. Your sanctuary can go a safety for bosom searching and worship. The interior voice of the spirit can talk to you in minutes of stillness.
As a immature enlisted adult male in the Navy, I was often assigned a security ticker during the early hours of the morning. Quietly I watched as the sun ascended over the horizon. I learned to utilize this clip for quiet contemplation and renewal. In the stillness, clip stopped, I waited expectantly. Since then I have got purposely continued to put aside a quiet clip in the early morning clip to inquire within, a time for contemplative introspection.
I wondered today about hearing for the voice of Supreme Being in those quiet moments. A ticking clock clamored for my attention. Thoughts pounding like moving ridges beat out upon my brain. I heard the true cat purring, from my lap. I attempted to foster silence.
I heard the whirring of the refrigerator. My head was noisy with screaming distractions. Noises of the world, its pressures, tensions, and defeats all bottled within me. Iodine heard the furnace blower boot in. There are other distractions that crowd out the voice of God. Hurt, loneliness, anger, shame, fearfulness and guiltiness vie with success, achievement, and pride.
I waited expectantly. In the stillness, I paused. I listened again. I heard in the cat's purr, a song of praise. The whimper of the furnace became a litany, telling of God's gift of heat and shelter. The recurring humming of the icebox became a anthem telling of God's proviso of nutrient and nourishment. I heard in the whispering of the spirit's still little voice, "Wait and watch." As I gave my ear to hearing, I received quiet assurance and interior peace.
All was finally quiet. I was again at peace. I tarried. I moved from the comfortableness of my chair to my knees, as I knew I was entering the presence of a King, yes, the King of Kings. A auto door slammed, an engine started, a neighbour left for work. All too abruptly, I was brought back to the ticking of the clock and the blare of time.
I had transcended the everyday earthly cares to climb up Jacob's ladder into the Godhead stillness of being alone with my creator. In my chase of soundlessness I had received the promise of His strength to ran into the chances of a new day.