Silence

Silence A word so powerful it can bring fear or peace ; happiness or loneliness ; confusion or understanding. A silent world can be a lonely world. Fear that slowly enters the mind can have a profound impact on the existence in a silent world. A siege of negative emotion can flood a time, space reality exaggerating the outcome of a simple event. Silence may also be uplifting, the calm after the storm, the break from chaos and mayhem. It is what it is, the interpretation is the variable. So what do we make of silence which is not complete? A world between two worlds, quietly existing without the completeness of the other, one foot in the world of sound and the other in the world of silence. This is where we will begin.

As a child it is important to be able to identify with a group and be accepted by this gathering of young souls. Individualism in early development can be a risky chance to take. Encouraged to be one of a group brings social placement and your importance in the social hierarchy. Without this you are doomed to be an outcast amongst your peers, a fate no young lad should endure. Once within a group you are assigned a ranking of importance and a labeled as such. This process occurs within a group of children brought together by location or common characteristics. But what of a child with different physical characteristics than those around him, where does he fit in the rankings within the group? He may be the social outcast, the low man of rank, or the “gofer”. A child who can master two groups is a special soul. One who can fit into the group of location while still holding on to the physical characteristics which set him apart? A member of the silent world and the hearing world.

When an infant is born we count his finger and toes, check his heart and lungs, measure and weigh, and then declare we have a healthy baby. It is not until much later we determine whether a child has the five senses of sight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste. Humans have an uncanny ability to adapt to their surroundings without realizing it. Some call it survival of the fittest, or instinct. Whatever the label, children born with less than “normal” hearing ability are often mislabeled as dreamers, or stubborn. Not until they are put in a learning situation, does the limitation appear with a possible physical cause. Suddenly the child is whisked from the environment of which they know to unknown place of once again being labeled and separated. A new set of friends, faces, and circumstances are placed in front of them as they try to figure out why they are suddenly different when they feel the same. Some are able to adapt to the change and adapt to a world outside of the one they have known, some cannot seem to adjust and become angry or become a victim in their new circumstances, but there are those who learn to accept both worlds and learn to function in both.

Learning to Communicate
Study the movement and formation the lips make when speaking. Each syllable makes a distinct motion and formation on the lips. The cheeks and face express the meaning conveyed by each phrase and sentence. Memorize the patterns and you know the meaning. Repetition in any given language has similar movement within the people communicating its meaning. Young children learn to talk by imitating this movement and making the corresponding sounds. A child in a silent world cannot imitate the sound, but can repeat the movement. A child in a limited sound world can imitate part of the sound and repeat the movement. This enables them to work within both existences. Parents exaggerate the movement to teach speech and will use repetition and praise to get the desired response. Smaller words and simple sounds soon pave the way for much larger and more complicated sounds, sentences and complete thoughts. Praise for those who master such communication is great, and frustration is the teacher for those who do not. Labeled as a bright young man, or a stubborn child these first lessons set the tone for how you are expected to perform in a society.

What if you see the motion on the lips, but hear a sound different from that of the sender? Over and over you make the motion and repeat the sound you hear, only to receive frustration and not praise from your sender. After much practice, you stop making the motion and the sound because the encouragement and praise is gone and replaced with criticism and disapproval. You become silent, just as the world you know to be and are comfortable in. The silent world holds no ridicule or hurt. You find the quiet world comforting, a place of inner peace and joy. It is a solitude that holds no judgment or shame, only love.

Distant Communication
We talked earlier of the five sense used to label an infant healthy, now let us explore the sixth sense of intuition or spiritual communication. Intuition is described as immediate knowledge of something without conscious reasoning. In another dimension you hear a faint, distant sound that first resonates in your subconscious and then to your conscious mind. Where is it coming from? The sound breaks into the silence and startles the receiver. Confusion as to its origin and meaning soon follows, but to a small child acceptance over rules the confusion and its meaning is not questioned. This communication is comforting, for it does not require a response, only a receiver. The sounds enter slowly, never upsetting or distracting the receiver. Soon sounds become words and words become sentences. Communication is opened on a subconscious level and messages received have meaning and guidance. Sharing these messages is not well received by those around you, for they do not understand such insight from a child and young adult. They describe it as imagination or exaggeration of tales heard from the older folks. Never giving credit the source from which it came. Intuition is a sense believed to be found only in an adult, but not a small child. A solution for such a problem has been found in the form of an operation to fix the deficit and stop the stories

Fixing the Problem
People find comfort in sound and cannot accept comfort can be found in silence as well. Those around us are not comfortable in their own silence, so they cannot imagine anyone else being comfortable in theirs. It is concluded that silence is a problem that must be fixed. Doctors are consulted to find solutions to this problem. A machine to measure and to detect vibration and sound is used to determine the extent of the “loss”. The subject is seated in a booth with padding on all sides, and a head set on. You are then instructed to raise your hand when you hear a sound. The door is closed and you are all alone, only a small window in front of you gives you any semblance of the outside world. As you sit there waiting for something to happen, you can see through the small window a man turning knobs frantically and gesturing to someone else in the room you cannot see. Suddenly a faint sound is detected, but is this the sounds of before or the ones you are suppose to hear now? The door opens to adults with very serious looks on their faces. The operation is next week, we will fix this problem.
Make the noise stop!

The mind races with confusion at the bombardment of sound. The silent world is shattered into sharp pieces of piercing noise. There are no spaces in the chaos of sound running through my head. I cannot make out one conversation from another, all of the words are jumbled up together and the noise behind them is maddening. Some of the sounds hurt my ears, some confuse my head, but mostly all of them torture my mind. I am nauseated by the onslaught of pain I am experiencing. Looking around at the onlookers, relishing in their success, I cannot believe this is what they call fixed. They are happy to have hurt my mind with the noise. My world of peace and silence has been ripped apart and all they can do is smile at this accomplishment. Silence is no longer mine to enjoy or inhabit, I now must learn to live in a world of sound.

Living with Sound
Clouds, softly floating above your head, bring peace and quiet into a chaotic world. Discovering clouds brought back the dreamy state, enjoyed as a child, and lost as time moved on. The years after the operation brought emotions of anger, resentment, pain, and a sense of madness to my inner being. The clouds reconnected me with what was good and imperfect in my world. Adults find a child troublesome and undisciplined when they don’t comfortably conform to the world around them. A child filled with negative emotion over a situation he blames the adults around him for, is especially problematic. Challenging authoritative decisions, rules, and intellect, a child is labeled as “bad”. Common punishment for such behavior was to be sent to your room to think about your actions. What a perfect punishment for someone avoiding a noisy world. The room was a quiet place of seclusion and comfort. A fifth grade teacher had the perfect punishment for rebellious kids. We were to lie on the playground, face up and stare at the sky. In the sky I discovered the clouds. The shapes, sizes, colors, and movement fascinated me. Before long, I was watching clouds at recess, after school and all summer long. It was the calm, again, in a chaotic world. In a secluded meadow, lying on the ground I found the peace and silence I longed for. Balance was again restored to my existence and with the balance came the subconscious sounds.

The Spirit World Calls
As a small child I found comfort in sounds that came from the silence in my room. At first they were merely orbs of light flickering like fire flies in the darkness, then I remember occasional images of persons long ago. Mostly of men, I conversed with wonderfully interesting souls, who could not pass over on the energy they had left and needed my energy to “boost them over” as one civil war gentleman put it. I looked forward to bed time each night, not knowing what was in store for me. Some nights I would not be visited, and I would wake in disappointment the next morning, other would be such a grand time of conversation and learning . I would repeat such stories in conversation with the adult s in my world the next day, only be to be told I was wise beyond my years, or I could tell such tales. In grade school I received excellent grades in history and rarely opened the book. Each night I was given a history lesson from those who experienced it firsthand. The excitement that I felt was short lived, for those around me did not understand my gift and consequently encourage the silence of my tongue over the expression of my conversations.

Older now, I decided to share with my grandmother the sounds and images I was beginning to once again experience. This experience comforted me as a child, for I did not feel alone or inferior when the images were about me. Alone, in the darkness of the night, my room provided a safe haven for the inner feelings to be communicated and the images to be seen. Suppressing the visits from spirit only caused sleepless nights and confusion. Bringing back the excitement of the conversations and the joy of each visit, brought balance back into my life. The grade school years were behind me, and now an older child I would be taken more seriously. Grandmother would understand and listen to my stories, or so I thought. I was never to speak of such things again. I was again silenced.

Trying to find sleep was difficult. My mind would race of nothingness, as my heart pounded and my muscles twitched. Unable to find a comfortable position to rest, my body would become very hot. The covers would be kicked off in a frustrated frenzy, and then the image was in my room. It was a formless light, moving across the room with a flowing ease and grace, resting at the foot of the bed. Fear was never a consideration, nor was curiosity, just an acceptance of both of our being there. The message shared was of a positive, uplifting existence, never of doom and gloom or devastation. These messages were different from those as a child; these messages were sent as a lesson to be learned and not of a conversation to be had. I had evolved from a listener to a teacher. When sleep finally was welcomed, it was peaceful and restful. The visits came on a regular basis, at least twice a week. In the morning, when the day broke, my body was well rested and my mind was full of positive encouragement and hope.

The events of the following day would unfold just as they had been observed the night before. Observation of the events was difficult in the beginning. Temptation to change or alter the experiences, or warn those involved, became a constant battle between acceptance of those around me and the knowing. As a child, my observations were labeled as fairy tale stories, as a teen, they were labeled as freaky, and as an adult they were not spoken of. This did not stop the communication between myself and those of spirit, just hindered the communication of their message to those around me. Wanting desperately to share the vision and the words of hope, no audience seems able to hear or understand the message. In time a knowing came to me as to who needed what message when. I was advising people around me with an uncanny knowledge far beyond my years. People would be drawn to me with situations of apparent helplessness, pleading with me for guidance, and I would know the answer they needed to get them on the right track. I could not explain how this knowledge was acquired, only that I was to communicate it with a calm, confident manner. I was to ask no questions and to leave once the message had been communicated, with no further explanation or discussion. I seemed to know when a person was in positive energy and genuine with their request, and when I should just walk away and not give any energy or response. Close friends started to distance themselves and my ability to communicate became increasingly difficult. It was once again, as if, the lips made the motion but the sound could not be heard.

A Familiar Spirit
Mourning is the act of feeling or an expression of sorrow for a regrettable circumstance or event. On a late summer evening, I experienced my first memorable account of mourning. A visit from spirit on this night was very different from the visits I had been accustomed too. On this night, the restlessness came, but instead the calm peaceful feeling customary to each visit, this evening brought a sense of sorrow and loss. The spirit that entered the room that night took on a familiar form. My Grandfather stood in front of me in a hologram of light. I remained silent, as did he for a very long time. Just before his departure, I received a message that the lessons to be learned are within the earth plane. Listen, observe, and feel but do not speak, even when spoken to, for no words will be needed. Puzzled by his visit, I fell asleep, not questioning the massager or the message.Awaken a few hours later by my father; the meaning of my earlier visit began to surface. As he sat on the edge of my bed and my mother stood in the doorway weeping, my sister and I learned that our Grandfather had an accident that evening. The cows had gotten out of the pasture and began to wonder in the corn fields, destroying the crops that had not been harvested. Grandpa and some neighbors were trying to round them up and get them back into the gate. After several hours, all of the cows were found and the pasture fence was mended. During the ordeal, Grandpa Frank fell chasing one of the bulls. He was stepped on and found several hours later. At the hospital, the doctors confirmed he had suffered a heart attack and died in the field. As I listened to the story, I felt the room fill up with energy. Standing next to my weeping mother was Grandpa Frank, and three other spirits I did not recognize. As my mother’s eyes welled up with tears, I could feel her pain in my chest and throat. I took on a tremendous amount of negative energy, leaving me with a chest so tight I could hardly breathe. Words were being spoken, tears were being shed, and all I could do was try not to choke. The throat was blocked, my chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it, I wanted to yell someone help me!
My eyes raised from the end of the bed, my Grandfather stood there with his finger on his lips, silencing my sound. I looked into his eyes and the pain went away, the throat was cleared, and I could breathe. The chatter in the room went on for a few more minutes, and then my parents kissed my cheek and told me to get some rest. When they left the room, Grandfather and the spirit also left. It was silent, except for the quiet weeping of my sister in the next bed. Sleep did not come quickly, and the next morning I did not feel rested or refreshed, only exhausted.

The day of the visitation was filled with shopping for clothes for my sister and me, followed by lunch, and then a long drive to the funeral home. I sat in the car looking out the window at the clouds floating over head, dreaming of stories Grandpa used to tell us when we would go for drives with him. The clouds took on the shapes and provided the visual for the storybook running in my head. He was a wonderful story teller, and would make me laugh. Every once in a while, mom would reach back behind her seat and smack whatever body part she could reach and tell me to knock it off. She was so sad, and I had a happy smile on my face, thinking and watching the clouds. It angered her to see me happy on such a sad occasion. When we arrived at the funeral home, I was assigned a chair to sit on and be quiet. It was located behind the casket, where I could see everyone walking through single file. People were polite to my Grandmother, mom, her sisters and bother. As they walked past the casket some would kneel and pray, others would whisper, or hurry by not looking at all. After a long while of sitting, I raised my hand to get up. Grandpa Frank appeared in front of me, he placed his finger on his lips. I sat in the chair for a short time longer until dad came to take us home. The car ride home was quiet. Through the window, the stars shone brightly as they filled the sky. I connected them together in my mind to make pictures of the stories in my mind.

Sleep came easily, and next day sped by quickly. The car ride back to the funeral home was not as enjoyable. The sky filled with heavy storm clouds. Layers of grey, blue and black filled the sky with beams of sunlight piercing through the cracks. We arrived at the funeral home and we were sitting in the same chairs as the night before. This time the adults were not in the same room with us, I got up and peeked into the casket. To my surprise Grandpa was sleeping. I sat down in the chair confused as to why everyone was so upset. The adults come back into the room. Dad sat next to me, and whispered, “I know you will miss your grandfather, you can cry if you want.” I looked up at Grandpa, he just smiled.

Six men in uniforms picked up the box, put it into a car, and then drove it to a field. The box was placed above a hole in the ground and decorations were place on top the box. Grandpa walked over to me as I stood there, away from the crowd. He smiled down for me to see, the sadness was gone from his eyes and a wonderful energy surrounded him. I looked up and smiled at him. I looked around at the people, they were all so sad. I looked back and Grandpa, but he was no longer there.

The car ride home brought back the feeling of pain and sadness. I began taking on the pain of those around me. I had reached a new level in my development. When we arrived home that evening, mom asked if we had any questions. I said yes, forgetting my Grandpas warning, and asked why everyone was so sad, when Grandpa was so happy. He was smiling and giving everyone hugs. Mom left the room in tears, dad said not speaks like that to my mom, and my sister said I hurt them both. Mom did return to the room yelling at me to stop hurting people, and always making everything about me.I forgot not to speak. I learned that lesson the hard way and now I don’t speak of what I see. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.