Article Highlights:

  • A spiritual awakening
  • When talk is just noise
  • Getting to know you

the truth of who you areHello Deep Listener,

When I turned 14, my Aunt Erma presented me with the only gift she ever gave me. It was a book called The Prophet, by Khalil Gibran.

“I think in this book you’ll discover a spiritual language that suits you much better than all that Mormon jargon you get so much of,” she said in her terse New Englander manner.

I didn’t know what to make of her statement but the book’s title and cover felt compelling to me. Mormonism has a tradition and belief in Prophets and Prophecy, and the cover drawing seemed to depict an old-time prophet. Who, I wondered?

Once I began it, I read through the night; such a hunger and longing for truth stirred within me as I turned the pages. The book sparked a spiritual awakening, though I didn’t know that phrase at the time. It was so meaningful that I still carry a miniaturized version of the book with me on my travels.

Recently I was reminded of a passage in which The Prophet (the factionalized character of the author) answers a question about speaking/talking. He says,

“You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts; And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and pastime. And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.

There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.

The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape. And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.

And there are those who have the truth within them, they tell it not in words.

In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.”

~ The Prophet, Khalil Gibran (1883-1931)

I love this passage, it speaks strongly to my own nature. A quieter teenager and young adult, I struggled with the amount of talk, talk, talking that seemed part of adult life: small-talk, putting-yourself-forward talk, explaining-yourself-to-others-talk, tooting-your-own-horn-talk, gossipy-talk, friends-talk, negotiating-talk, flirting-and-romancing-talk, filling-space-talk, getting-to-know-you-talk. So much talky talk! It always seemed noisy, interruptive, undesirable. It was incredibly difficult for me to do, and I’m often still awkward in, or fatigued by, small talk.

Because of this near aversion for what seemed to me an excess of noise, my own ability to communicate is hard won, as I’ve mentioned to you before. I had to practice, to require myself to move out of my comfort zone. I had to study, and sweat fearfully and acquire skills.

In the end, I made peace with the need for sharing words, while still preferring them to be more meaningful and useful than not. Eventually, however, I gained some skill and even a certain enjoyment for some forms, such as writing or quiet, heartfelt and more intimate verbal sharing.

I enjoy adding a musicality and cadence and flow to talking. I play with forms of speaking and writing that convey more of a sense of silence and spaciousness and peace. The Buddhists understand, admire and encourage this style of writing. For my own writing, I have drawn from their ideas, as well as those of the great mystics and the spiritual poets who imbue words with presence and space. These are all forms of writing, speaking, talking, and words that I enjoy.

When I began to be in contact with many indigenous peoples around the world, imagine my happiness when I discovered they use so many fewer words than we generally do. In fact in some tribes, upon meeting for the first time, people sit in silence for a while before any words or questions are exchanged. For them the best way to get to know someone is to sense them first. I couldn’t agree more!

I quite happily go for days without speaking. If we spent more than a few days together, after the first flurry of excited words shared, you might fidget or feel dismay or even discomfort because of the long lapses into silence that inevitably seem to engulf me.

It might not feel like relating to you. You might wonder what I was thinking or feeling, was I ok? Was I mad at you? No, I’m just quiet, deeply content sharing time and space beyond words. My friend Gloria Steinem once said to me, “You are the quietest person I’ve ever met, but you are quiet in a way that makes me feel peaceful.” I was glad she understood.

Of course I talk, I use words, they are not only necessary, they are fun. But generally speaking, I remain in the feeling that we often have such an excess of talking that it renders us less conscious of our inner voice, our own deeper truths, and keeps us from hearing, feeling and truly noticing each other.

So, since you and I got to know one another through words, I thought you might like to take a few minutes today to get to know each other in quietude. Let’s take time right now to grow silent together and simply sense one another. Our hearts share without words, and beyond words. It’s a wonderful way to enjoy time together.

There, in the peace and quiet, you’ll find me ready to know you better, to catch up on your day, to share heart and mind and soulfulness and a nice laugh or two as well.

In the silence, together,
With love, Mayet

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