Leaning into the Silence

A Pathway to Courage, Strength, and Peace

Silence. A healing balm for the soul. Not always easy, especially when it brings up what we have been avoiding. Yet a blessing in the end if we are willing to stay with it and lean in. Last week when I wrote about letting eternity in, I talked about being with the silence. It’s part of what makes the eternal present a lifeline for me. So, this week we go deeper into the silence and explore what it means to lean in.

Silence can be a gateway to deep presence, to expanded awareness, and ultimately, even to personal transformation. It’s a living, dynamic space through which our own inner wisdom, as well as wisdom greater than our own, can make itself known. It’s a listening space, a contemplative space, a discovery space; it’s not a thinking or figure-it-out space. To be with the silence is to step into an intimate relationship with the unknown, to ride the waves of the human psyche, to navigate the jet streams and undercurrents of energy in the collective consciousness.

“Leaning into the Silence” (Photo: Alan Seale)

The more I lean into that pure, deep silence, the more I find clarity, safety, and interconnectedness. Yet I’ll also acknowledge that it doesn’t necessarily take me right away to deep faith, peace, and trust. It’s not a quick fix. I’m not living there yet, but at least I’m able to visit there more often than I used to. When I lean into the silence and breathe into my bones, I’m usually able to find a quieter place inside—a place where I can at least touch my own sense of faith and trust again.

At the same time, I realize as I write that leaning into the silence is itself, in fact, an act of trust. It’s stepping beyond the rational mind’s need for immediate answers, surrendering to the unknown, and letting the unknown start to guide you. Even if, at first, only for the moment. It’s a way of opening yourself more fully to the wisdom and guidance that is found beyond words, beyond logic, beyond rational thought. It’s allowing yourself to rest in a space where deeper knowing can unfold. Leaning into presence itself, into the wisdom of the soul, into the callings from our deepest selves. It’s an act of courage—opening to receive.

Modern-day mystic and Episcopal priest Cynthia Bourgeault wrote:

Silence is not absence, but presence.
It is a “something,” not a nothing.
It has substantiality, heft, force.
You can lean into it, and it leans back.
It meets you; it holds you up.

—Cynthia Bourgeault

I love the simplicity and directness in her words. Silence has substantiality, heft, force. You can lean into it, and it leans back. It meets you; it holds you up. Although I wouldn’t have thought to describe my experience in this way, her words powerfully capture what I sometimes feel. It’s like the silence stands up inside me to meet me wherever I am, and somehow, holds me up. The more I surrender to that silence and the ways in which it meets me, the more I can stand up to meet it.

And if I stay with it—if I lean into it—it leans back into me. It meets me where I am. It leans back into my weariness and discomfort. It leans back into my reluctance to accept what’s in front of me and around me, and perhaps most importantly, what’s within me. My fear, my doubt, my need for certainty, my discomfort with not knowing what will come next.

And sometimes it’s hard to stay with it. Yet if I do, and if I keep leaning in and letting the silence lean back into me, I find strength to give it even more space. We strengthen each other. Somehow, we both get stronger. And as I stay with it, the silence grows more steadfast yet also more embracing; it grows stronger yet more tender. Which, in turn, allows me to take on those qualities as well. The silence becomes a force, yet it caresses me so gently. So much so that I want to lean into it, and I miss it when I’m too long away from it. The silence gives me breath. And that breath gives me strength to surrender to the creative and sustaining force of Love that will hold me if I give it a chance.

Leaning into the silence is a step towards intimacy with stillness and with your deepest self and, at the same time, with All That Is. An intimacy that makes space for the silence to reveal whatever is there, whether that is clarity, confusion, peace, uncertainty, or discomfort. An intimacy that makes it safe to listen, sense, and feel with all your outer and inner senses—with your whole body, heart, and intuitive mind. An intimacy that, if you stay with it, allows you to touch deeper feelings, deeper truths, deeper wisdom.

In the documentary film Alan Magee: art is not a solace, another Episcopal priest, Holly Lyman Antolini, said:

This is a thing about human beings.
We can bear things if we can express them.

—Holly Lyman Antolini

When I lean into the silence, I’m able to hear what my heart has been longing to express—my fears, my doubts, my loves, my hurts, my hopes. My soul starts to communicate with me in its own language—a language often beyond words, made up of images, colors, sounds, feelings. And occasionally there is even what seems like a download of profound knowing.

And if I keep leaning in, words start to come. Sometimes I don’t even need to say those words out loud; just finding them is enough. Something happens inside me—an alchemy, a healing—just by allowing the words to break through into my conscious awareness. Which then makes it more possible to bear the outer circumstance. And which then often gives me courage to speak those words out loud, even if just to one other soul.

The last two lines of David Whyte’s poem, “A Seeming Stillness,” stay with me:

what seems to be said so suddenly,
has lived in the body for a long, long time…

—David Whyte

If the silence feels like a foreign place to you, it’s ok. You’re not alone. Yet perhaps it’s time to go there. You can start simply—just by intentionally turning off the music or the television and sitting quietly, even if only for a few minutes. Or noticing when there is conversation simply out of habit—just because it’s what you do when you’re with others—and choosing instead to be quiet together. Or sitting in the stillness with your morning coffee or tea. Just being quiet, listening into the stillness, and breathing into the moment with no other task to do beyond simply being fully present.

Take five minutes or ten or fifteen. Stretch just beyond your comfort zone, and then go on with your day. Early on, you might feel overwhelmed with inner voices and thoughts, or your mind may race with all the things it thinks you should be doing. It’s ok. Your mind has been conditioned by years of expectations and keeping up with all there has been to keep up with.

So, for a short time, set it all down. Give yourself time in the silence every day, and let that time expand as you are ready. And as you feel more at ease, then lean in a little. You might even feel the silence start to lean back. Let the silence become your intimate friend—a friend that can be with you whenever you choose, whenever you make the time.

Silence. A healing balm for the soul. Not always easy. Yet in the end, a blessing.

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Invitations

• Free recorded Meditations for Changing Times led by Alan. More than 50 guided meditations. Choose the title that speaks to you and listen. Available for free to you anytime.

• Visit The Center for Transformational Presence website

• Consider reading one of Alan’s Books

• Explore Coaching and Mentoring with Alan

• Invite Alan to Speak to your organization or conference

• Explore Upcoming Programs in Transformational Presence

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