During my party, my mentor gave me a present: Tuesdays with Morrie, the book. It was funny because prior to that Saturday, I was actually searching for Mother Goose’s copy because I suddenly had the strongest urge to reread it for some unknown reason. And what do you know, her gift was perfect timing.
My mentor and I really have the same wave length, though I am not as wise as she is, and knowing each other in such an honest, deep way, I can say that there is this kind of connection between us that is like a communication line, only that there is no need to say anything.
As I was leafing through the book for the nth time, a passage caught me, and I remembered the last time I read it, I was also taken by it. It was about silence.
The book told of Morrie’s class back in Brandeis, where he entered the room and just sat there mum for a good number of minutes, so still and quiet that an uncomfortable weight began to fill the room that made the students fidget and do all sorts of stuff just to make do with the silence.
I guess silence has a way of making us do just that, not just inside a class but anywhere we go to. When things fall to a silent still we get anxious, we fidget, we try to focus on something even completely pointless, like staring at a flying plastic bag like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, just to make up for the silence, to keep us preoccupied.
In the book, Morrie was right. People do tend to be uncomfortable in silence because often they find comfort in all the noise. They are scared shitless of silence. I am like Mitch however, because I could also sit there in complete silence, and not minding at all, reveling in it in fact.
I like silence. For one, it gives me rest, because the world in all its glory is a loud one that just seem to suck out all of your energy with the noises it makes. Silence also keeps me from making stupid mistakes, from saying things I do not mean, from saying things that I will regret saying later, and from saying things that I do not believe in but will have to live with for the rest of my life.
But only a few people are like that. They cannot seem to bear the unspoken words, or the weight the air suddenly takes when people are silent, the way it always happen, that all of the things remaining unsaid just seem to float to the air, making it heavy, giving it weight.
Silence is an interesting thing. In its stillness it makes us understand, and gives us an opportunity to listen to so many things unspoken, to the pounding of our hearts, to the whistle the wind makes when it blows.
It makes us wise by giving us time to think and reflect and finally decide. That when we finally break our silence, the noise we will be making is something that is worth it.
Things always change. And it is funny how we try to go against it, because ultimately, no matter what we do, things will eventually change, as they always do. The only problem is, sometimes when they do change, we are not ready. But we don’t have much of a choice do we?
To accept what is already has been, no matter how we feel about it, always ends up a must, for if not we will be left behind. And who would want that right? I do not know if you will agree with me, but as is the case, I feel that it is always kinder to the spirit to leave things behind than to be actually left behind.
It can be painful, especially when we are not ready as I’ve said, but as is in any learning situation, sometimes growth can also be a painful process – acceptance and surrender can be really painful, but that act of letting go is one of the tests of being human that we must all pass. It is not always pretty but more often, it is the only way to go, because it is the only way to be free.