TAKEN BY SURPRISE

     I'm writing this near the end of ten days spent alone, housesitting at a friend's isolated Hill Country cottage, mostly cloaked in sacred silence. What a blessing to be here, tucked into this quiet valley located fifteen miles from the nearest town, surrounded by many acres of green space, far enough away from neighbors and roads that very little human noise ever intrudes on the stillness.

 

SOAKING IN SILENCE

     Spending time in "sacred silence" involves limiting communication with others unless an urgent need arises, and choosing instead to focus on paying attention to my surroundings, and the "still Small Voice" as it emerges out of the void created by unplugging from human contact and electronic media. Mostly I sit quietly, simply watching thoughts come and go without attachment, periodically punctuated by small acts that feed the moment: making a cup of tea, journaling, taking a walk, listening to the breeze singing its song in the treetops. I know this time is a gift, and I do my best not to take it for granted.

 

VIEWED WITH AWE

      One of the more wonder-filled aspects of being here is a chance for this city-dweller to get re-acquainted with the way the ever-shifting sunlight illuminates the earth, thanks to the sheer size of the vast horizon. It's particularly mesmerizing at sunset, when blazing swirls of orange and purple clouds seem to arise out of nowhere to dazzle the eyes, then quickly dim to yield the stage to the first evening star as it blinks into being out of the gathering darkness. A few moments later, that solitary "star" (which is actually the planet Venus on most nights) is joined by two or three others stars, before scores more make their sudden entrance. Within a few brief minutes, the deep dark skies are filled with zillions of other lights, in a display that takes me by surprise each time I stop to watch it unfold.

 

BLINDED BY THE LIGHT

     It's stunning to realize once again, as if for the very first time, that those stars didn't just appear suddenly; they've been there all day long, "hiding" in plain sight, obscured by the light of the sun. Just because I couldn't see the stars in daytime doesn't mean they weren't there. Of course, I already knew that as a scientific fact I learned in elementary school, as you most likely did, too. But re-experiencing it so vividly in this spectacular setting provides a pointed reminder of the metaphysical Principle of Perception: that what we see, touch or believe to be "real" is actually just a small fraction of what there is to be seen, touched and perceived.

     I feel both humbled and enlarged by the reminder, dramatically punctuated by a shooting star zooming briefly across the sky, as if to underscore the point: let go of your attachment to your thoughts and judgments, and be amazed again and again, by the richness and variety of experiences that Life has to offer, far beyond the boundaries and limitations of your thoughts and beliefs. 

With awe and gratitude,

     Rudi