Nothing particular occurred*, yet everything is different.
Six or seven months ago, I was tormented by traffic noise, by neighbors’ noise – televisions, microwaves, toilets, voices, whistlers and whingers. I was accustomed to quiet rural habitats where the ambient stillness soothed my own mind’s noise. But now it was yapping on in a jungle of ‘people’ noise: unbearable. It drove me nuts.
Nothing, now, can touch this silence. Which is not to say that the world has become quiet. It’s a riddle I know, but in the same way that Emptiness is fullness, this Silence is sound-full. Every conceivable noise arises in IT, meets no resistance and dissolves back into IT.
In a totally inexplicable way, everything IS this silence.
* the free-fall : 2002-03