Silent Rebellion
Embracing Stillness in a World of Noise
It’s been suggested that people who have meditated for many years eventually reach a point where the meditation process is so simple that few people can do it. The irony is that less structure makes it more difficult for the untrained mind. In fact, meditation itself is more a process of stripping away and letting go of not just what no longer serves us, but literally everything.
I have always been curious by nature, living what many would call the life of a seeker. And through years of exploration, I've gathered countless stories and insights that fill me with a desire to share. Hence, the origin of my writing life.
But I feel as though (at present) I have reached a point where I see with such clarity that I have very little to say — that writing or saying what’s on my mind seems in some way to take away from the message.
I’m also choosing to see people as inherently intelligent. Sure, there are those who are ignorant, but I believe more by choice than ability. Mostly, I perceive as a species we are smart and capable. The source of our calamities has little to do with outstretching our capabilities and more with living lives with blinders attached.
Thus, if we are all inherently smart and capable, the question I’m pondering is: Why state the obvious?
And I know the answer(s) to the question: that some of us may be in a state of readiness to be reminded of certain truths that we may have turned away from, that I give my own creative voice to the answer, that while most people will not relate to my message that some will. And so on.
But seriously. Why state what we already know? Why drone on with truths, no matter how profound, if it doesn’t change anything?
And then I’m reminded of something I learned a long time ago through immersion with Native American culture, which is that for the most part, indigenous languages the world over are mostly rooted in the verb instead of the noun.
And why is that important?
Because their language reflects their culture and value system — which is that we exist as expressions not things.
In the beautiful place of stillness I often reach in meditation, there is so little there that there is almost nothing. And in that place, there is no identity, no noun that defines who I am, no adjective that embellishes, no status, no aggrandizing stories, no need to stress over what I’ve accomplished or not accomplished, no need, no yearning, no desire, no possessions that hold any meaning for me, no anything more important than the breath that fills my lungs in the moment.
And yet, this is all in stark contrast to the ruse of our culture — the common narrative that keeps us engaged in a flurry of activity, if even that activity looks like binging on Netflix.
Less is better is a commonly understood axiom, and Occam’s razor, the philosophical approach to problem-solving utilizing the smallest set of variables and the simplest solutions, both speak to what I’m expressing.
If there are no nouns, no identities that truly matter, no accomplishments that provide enough validation for us to finally feel like we’re worthy, no possessions that make our lives more meaningful; if there is no-thing that truly makes a difference in the grand scheme of human existence, then what is there?
Expression!
Hardwired into the indigenous cultures of the world is the notion that we are not a thing, but an expression. And if we are not a thing, then what are we?
Right! I just said an expression. But more deeply still, what are we?
What flows from expression, which could be more broadly interpreted as art in all its forms?
Beauty, perhaps.
As the Navajo people commonly refer to the path of “walking in beauty,” they do not say, “She is beautiful,” but “She is walking in beauty,” or “She walks with beauty.” In other words, she is expressing beauty. Not to be confused with physical beauty, although we may at times interpret a person’s expression of beauty in physical form.
And what makes an expression beautiful?
Answering this question is why I’ve been struggling with my writing so much of late, because the answers to the questions seem so ridiculously simple that it’s stating the obvious. And you’re a smart person, surely you already know the answer. Do I even need to say it?
Hint: It’s not about taste or what’s in vogue or where we studied.
Do you have it yet?
I know you know this, and I’m resistant to state it because I don’t want to talk down to you. Can we just leave this question hanging in the air for the moment?
Let’s return to the original prompt for this post: the point about simplistic meditation being really challenging. I think it’s all related.
Mark Twain once said, “I didn't have time to write you a short letter, so I wrote you a long one.”
It’s more difficult to be concise. It’s more challenging to sit in meditation and just breathe than to run our minds through complex processes or recite mantras known only to the practitioner. It takes more effort to listen to someone vent their frustrations and have little to say in return than to try and fix their problems for them. It’s more arduous to try and navigate complex emotions in a relationship than to merely sit in silence with a person we love and allow the emotion to flow.
It's extraordinarily difficult to disembark from common cultural narratives, to turn off the television and sit in silence with our thoughts and emotions. Like an old movie projector that’s slowly losing power, these thoughts and emotions gradually fade, their images moving more slowly, taking up less space in our eternal minds. Eventually, perhaps after years — the projector stops altogether, and we have only the present moment in pure form.
I have very little to say about this, except that in a world in which mass distraction is the norm, sitting in stillness seems the ultimate rebellion.
The movie projector is moving slower now, such that the movie itself has less importance.
And what remains?
Only this one single breath and the expression that is my life in the moment.
Not to forget, the answer to the obvious question about what makes an expression beautiful . . .
. . . authenticity.
If it’s real for you, then it’s beautiful.
If you’re new to meditation, here’s a great piece by a friend that can help you get started, A Beginner’s Guide to Meditation and Inner Peace