The Silence 2016: An Invitation to the Background of Being

We live in a world that is obsessed with the active mode. We are taught to manipulate, to solve, to "kill time" as if time were an enemy to be conquered before it conquers us. This constant noise of the separate self is an infernal racket that has been going on for decades, a desperate attempt to fill the void because we suffer from a collective horror vacui. We fear that if the noise stops, we might cease to exist. But what if the noise is merely a ripple on an ocean that is already, and has always been, still? When we look at the silence 2016 and the way we perceive our reality, we realize that silence is not something we can actually hear with our ears. We hear the absence of sound and we label it "silence," much like we cannot see space but we feel its presence. It is a strange thing, standing at the very limit of perception. We think silence goes away when the noise starts, but that is an illusion of the body-mind. If you make a deafening noise for a hundred years and then suddenly stop, the silence is right there, exactly as it was before you began. It never left. It is the background that allows the noise to be heard. Without the silent screen, the film of life could not be projected. Many of us are tired of the commercialized versions of "well-being" and the superficiality of spiritual consumerism. We seek a transformative experience, a way to reach a state of peace, yet we fail to see that the seeker is the very obstacle. Who is this "I" that wants to be silent? The separate self is nothing more than a chatterbox, a continuous activity of thinking, doing, and becoming. It must keep moving, for if it stops, it vanishes. And in that vanishing, the absolute reveals itself. This isn't a journey to a far-off land; it is the simple recognition of what is already here. In the context of the silence 2016, we might consider the metaphor of the wave and the ocean. The wave doesn't need to practice being water. It doesn't need to "attain" wetness through a spiritual process. It is water. Whether it is a crashing, violent storm or a calm, glass-like surface, its essence remains unchanged. We are so devoted to keeping our lives in motion, to maintaining the "me," that we miss the iridescent energy dancing in every sight, sound, and sensation. There is just seeing, just hearing, just breathing. There is no one behind the eyes doing the perceiving. The idea that there is a "perceiver" is just another thought appearing in the vastness. Sometimes, when the noise of the body-mind creates a gap—a hole in the net of thoughts—we experience a profound ease. It feels like being held by a mother, a mystery that is both abissal and sacred. Other times, this same gap brings terror, a sense of falling into a bottomless abyss. This terror belongs to the separate self that is afraid to let go of the ledge. But what is there to fear when there is no "you" to fall?