“Within each of us there is a silence – a silence as vast as the universe. We are afraid of it . . . and we long for it.

When we experience that silence, we remember who we are: creatures of the stars, created from the birth of galaxies, created from the cooling of this plane, created from dust and gas, created from the elements, created from time and space . . . created from silence.” – Gunilla Norris

I was recently invited to participate in a local research project – to help examine the role of mindfulness practice in longer-term patient care.

For those who are not aware, I am presently being treated for early-onset Parkinson’s disease. The experience of facing a life-altering diagnosis, can be daunting – to say the least. But, more profoundly, it is our experience within that diagnosis – our state of mind, so to speak – which may drastically alter the course of disease ‘progression.’ That is to say, though we may not be able to change our genetic destiny – we can find peace within it.

The Buddha taught that the best way to reduce our suffering was through the healing power of this present moment; an unassuming connection to the very nature of our being.

One with the capacity to transcend all that dreadful inner-chattering. This is the way of mindfulness, of opening our hearts fully to life, and allowing all to be, just as it is.

Be here now….sounds rather easy, now doesn’t it? But, just watch as something might threaten our ego – and, how quickly we relinquish this connection. We defend the impermanence of this emotion, more so than the sanctity of our being.

In truth, we are defending that ‘second arrow.’

The Buddha taught that it is only by way of looking into our suffering, that we might finally understand and relieve it.

I came to mindfulness practice because I was suffering. Though, I’d always been one to find the blessing in the challenge, in this case…I felt so completely overwhelmed. I was suffering, you see, at the hands of someone else’s misery. And, in that space – I lost all connection to self.

One night, I suppose, stood out as my ‘tipping point’ – in which the man I ‘loved’ announced he was ‘too embarrassed to be seen with me.’

The next morning, I did the only thing I knew how to do – I sat quietly beneath a tree and breathed.

In the silence, I could feel the sting of his words…

“You’re not good enough…”

“I never loved you…”

“You’ll never find someone as good as me…”

Look, I know it’s not always easy to sit with our pain. Habit urges us to run, to lash out, to defend – to move away from the pain.

But, in doing so – we lose a vital chance to understand.

In her book, Sharing Silence, Gunilla Norris writes:

“Through the practice of silence we become aware
of our pain. The pain is always there—in our minds
and in our bodies. Silence allows us to see it,
face it, release it.

By cultivating silence, we can find and release
deeper and deeper levels of pain and so discover
once again what is beneath the pain:
the natural joy that is already inside us,
free to rise and flow into experience.”

It is the rigidness of emotion which keeps us locked to our pain. The sting of someone’s words, the haunting image of another’s actions.

Though, it may be our instinct to flee – we must remember, there is a vital lesson to be learned. That is to say, in silence, we begin to see. And, with open heart, we begin to soften to our pain.

But always, within each soul-filling breath…my darlings, there is a boundless peace.