Let me ask you something: When was the last time you truly heard silence?
Not the absence of noise—the roar of it. The kind that hums in your bones, wraps around your chaos, and says, “Breathe. Just breathe.”
We live in a world addicted to sound. Notifications ping. Screens blare. Minds chatter. Even our joy is loud, our pain louder. But what if I told you that silence isn’t about shutting your mouth? It’s about opening your soul.
Silence Isn’t Quiet. It’s Alive.
Picture an ocean. On the surface, waves crash, foam hisses, winds scream—a riot of sound. But dive deeper. Down where light fades, there’s a stillness so vast it holds galaxies. That’s silence.
The universe isn’t silent. The wind sings. Rivers hum. Stars crackle. Even your heartbeat drums a rhythm. But beneath it all, there’s a core—a place untouched by noise. A dimension where life isn’t lived… it’s felt.
Silence isn’t denying sound. It’s hearing the song beneath the song.
The Disease of “Oral Diarrhea”
Let’s be honest: We’re all guilty of it. We spill words like confetti, hoping they’ll fill the void. “How are you?” “Busy!” “Did you hear…?” “Let me explain…” We talk to avoid listening. To ourselves. To each other. To life.
But here’s the experiment that changed me: Say the same thing with half the words.
Suddenly, you’re forced to choose. To mean what you say. To listen before you speak. Try it tomorrow. Cut your words by 50%. Watch how your mind sharpens. How your heart softens. How the person across from you leans in instead of tuning out.
Silence isn’t empty. It’s editing.
Stillness: Where Creation Begins
A tiger stalks its prey in absolute stillness. A snake freezes, becoming one with the earth. Humans? We fidget. We scroll. We multitask ourselves into exhaustion.
But here’s the secret: Stillness isn’t inactivity. It’s potency.
When you sit—truly sit—without twitching, without reaching for your phone, without mentally rewriting your to-do list… something shifts. Your body settles. Your mind quiets. And beneath the noise, you hear it: the pulse of existence. The silence that births galaxies.
Stillness isn’t a pause. It’s a homecoming.
The Ugly Truth About Noise
Noise isn’t just sound. It’s compulsion. The itch to react. The need to fix, control, defend. Every argument, every regret, every sleepless night? It’s noise masquerading as meaning.
But silence? Silence is consciousness. It’s the moment before you snap. The breath before you speak. The space where you ask: “Is this necessary? Is this kind? Is this true ?”
I learned this the hard way. Years ago, I drowned in noise—endless calls, relentless plans, relationships choked by words. Then one day, I stopped. Not forever. Just for an hour. And in that hour, I heard my own soul.
Silence isn’t a retreat. It’s a revolution.
How to Scream in Silence
You can dance in silence. Sing in it. Even scream.
Sound lives on the surface—a flicker. Silence lives in the core—an ember. When you touch that core, you realize: You’re not the wave. You’re the ocean.
Try this tonight:
- Sit. Close your eyes.
- Count your breaths—10 in, 10 out.
- Imagine each exhale carrying a worry, a word, a “what if.”
You’re not meditating. You’re unbecoming. Stripping layers of noise until all that’s left is… you.
The Grace of Letting Go
We cling to noise because we fear what silence might reveal. Our fragility. Our power. Our mortality.
But here’s the paradox: Silence is where you meet the eternal.
When my father died, the noise stopped. The hospital machines. The condolences. The “if onlys.” In that silence, I felt him—not as memory, but as presence. A stillness that outlived his body.
We’ll all lose our bodies one day. But if you learn silence now, you’ll let go gracefully. Not torn from life, but stepping into it—lighter, freer, whole.
Your Invitation
Tomorrow, do two things:
- Speak half as much. Say more by saying less.
- Sit still for 5 minutes. Not to “fix” yourself. Just to be.
Notice how the world shifts. How conflicts soften. How you hear the unspoken—in others, in yourself, in the wind.
Silence isn’t a luxury. It’s your birthright.
Turn down the volume. Turn up the life.
The universe is waiting.
P.S. If this feels impossible, remember: Even the noisiest storms end. The deepest silences begin with a single breath.
Take it.