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There is always more than one silence






There is always more than one silence.

The silence I felt this morning was deep and steeped in grace.

Held, and sowing tears; it was a fertile ground for sprouting new life.

One silence is like an open book, one like entering a new country.

One is so, so tender. And like a little child, we are free to explore and expand into it.

One silence is there for encountering the intimacy of your own self. It is a vast, still place. Luscious, rich, ripe, and largely untapped.

There is always more than one silence.

There can be an uncomfortable silence. But for me, silence has always been comfortable. I am home there. I am tender and soft and real there. The silence, like a friend, wraps around me.

One silence is there to help us see our body as it really is. Our beautiful body, cased in our soul. And even more beautiful is freedom and release of inhibitions in our glorious, ripe body.

There is always more than one silence.

The one just after you have been asked a deep question, like an arrow straight to your heart. Then comes a stark silence, with alarm and tenderness and vulnerability alight in your eyes. Your whole body erect to the implications. In the silence wondering if your whole house of cards will fall apart in this one moment. Are you willing to risk the truth?

There is the expectant silence, before a new experience, that you choose to have. Crackling with the newness of it, it is an exciting silence.

And then there is the silence in between moments of being extraordinarily silly. These short silences in between laughter and play are filled with joy. Comfortable in your skin, you are not afraid of the quiet.

There is the silence, like the calm before the storm, which transforms you. You enter into a new experience with your full bravery on. And there, in that silence, Grace takes you in her gigantic, capable arms, and rocks you back and forth, chuckling to herself. Finally, she says. Finally, you have come home.


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