Silence and Speaking Up

Photo credit: Rick Kain

To see the Moon that cannot be seen

Turn your eyes inward

and look at yourself,
in silence.

In this world and the next,
Don’t talk about this and that;

Let him show you everything,

shining as one . . . in silence.

~~ Rumi

In yoga there is inherently an awareness of  a union of opposites; right and left, heaven and earth, in breath and out breath, silence and sound...We practice noticing the dualities or seeming opposites so that eventually we can transcend them. This we practice in different ways, asana, breath work, chanting, etc. With practice we can find a balance that can help us move gracefully even off our mats.

As we are using our voices to speak words that help proclaim that black lives matter, as a white woman (in this incarnation anyway!) I am acutely aware that silence can be dangerous to my black and brown brothers and sisters and my words are needed. However I am also aware that there needs to be deliberate, conscious silence between the words to assure that what I am saying is intentionally kind, and helpful and just. To speak simply for the sake of speaking runs the risk of our intended meaning being lost in translation.

Recently my husband shared a childhood memory of visiting a family in Germany, the experience clearly a formative one for him. The family lived on a dairy farm and, for some reason that my husband could not explain, his military parents who were stationed there dropped him off to spend an entire weekend. He recalled that his hosts, while very hospitable did not speak a word of english. He talked about feeling uncomfortable at first but eventually he relaxed and played games with the children where language was not a barrier. He recalls sleeping in a feather bed with a mattress on top of him instead of a blanket. They ate German food and drank fresh milk from the farm. In the morning when the mom asked my husband how he had slept, in German of course, it took a while to figure out what she had been trying to ask.  Eventually he understood, gave them a thumbs up sign and they all had a good laugh. 

Somehow, despite the language barrier, they showed him a good time and he learned about farm life in a small German town and about hospitality and caring for our fellow humans.

Similarly, several years ago I attended a ten day silent Vipassana meditation course. I signed up in advance and was put on a waiting list as these ten day courses are extremely popular. When I was notified that a spot had opened up during the upcoming month, I quickly rearranged my schedule so that I could attend.

I was a little nervous. Ten days was a lot of time to spend mostly in silent meditation. It actually went pretty well. I produced a podcast about the experience. You can check it out here.

What I want to talk about here though is the revelation I had at the end of the retreat when we were finally able to talk to our fellow participants. Although all of us were women, the group of us, about 20 total, were from all walks of life, different nationalities, socioeconomic groups and age ranges. We slept together in small rooms of three. My twin bed was in the middle of two others. My bunkmates were an Indian woman and another of Chinese descent. We didn’t speak as we made our beds and set out our things in our small quarters. We communicated non-verbally about logistics like storage space and bathroom sharing. It was interesting and challenging at first but as time went on, we got into a comfortable groove.

The language of friendship is not words but meanings.

~~Henry David Thoreau

By the end of the retreat, we had adopted a very sweet, very compatible co-existence. When one of us left the room while the others were sleeping or meditating, we made sure to close the door lightly. We respected each other’s space and privacy when needed. We ate meals together in quiet mindful appreciation of the food and one another’s company. Somehow, without even speaking a word, strangers became friends. 

True friendship comes when the silence between two people is comfortable. 

— David Tyson Gentry

On the morning of the last day when we broke our silence and we were finally officially able to talk with one another, we were excited to share our experience, get to know one another and compare our early impressions to what we were now learning about one another. It was fascinating. I learned that my Indian roommate had two young boys and that she was the last member of her family to attend the Vipassana training. My other roommate had no children and worked as a scientist at a lab not far from my home. Most of us admitted to having certain ideas about the others in the group that changed as we neared the end of the ten days.

What I learned at that silent meditation retreat will stay with me for the rest of my life. Among many things, I learned that I make assumptions about people pretty quickly with little to go on but visual and verbal cues. I learned that although communication is essential to positive social interaction, words can sometimes get in the way. I learned that we can develop quality relationships with others who may seem different, by simply being present with them. I learned that caring for one another and mutual respect go a long way toward creating a peaceful, harmonious environment. No words were necessary for small acts of kindness.

In the absence of words however I was made acutely aware of the power of the word. The words we choose can heal or they can hurt. We must, in these times use our words to speak up against racism. Enough is truly enough. 

Ecclesiastes 3:7

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak

In the silence between our words, may we choose well. 
May we correct ourselves quickly when we choose poorly.
May our hearts be open to listen, especially when words fail us.
May our words contribute to a better, more loving world.
May these words that I write contribute in some way to the healing
of our black and brown brothers and sisters that they may know peace, serenity, safety, abundance and happiness.
May all beings everywhere be united as one family.

History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people. 
~~Martin Luther King, Jr.

Connie Bowman is an actress, podcast host, yoga teacher, and author of several books, including There's an Elephant in My Bathtub, Super Socks and Back to Happy. Follow her on Instagram @conniebowmanactressauthoryogior visit www.conniebowman.comJoin her for yoga Tuesday evenings here.