Silence is golden

“How about just facing up to the void? … Each of us contains something within us that is unknown, but which, when it surfaces, is capable of producing miracles.”

Paulo Coelho in The Witch of Portobello

The gingko leaves turned a blazing gold against the autumn sunlight, and masses of people, mostly in beautiful and trendy attire, thronged the streets on the way to their destinations.

The sights in this megapolis never fail to amaze me, with so many people on the move, constantly. I watch them with interest, and then they fade out of my sight, never to be seen again, like flowing river water that never stays in one place.

It reminds me that everything changes, that my mind creates illusions of permanence where there is none. When will I grasp this? I do so as I write, and a warming smile follows uncontrollably. There are no prisons, only my mind’s fixations, and life to be lived forward.

I visualize waves rolling through me, without end, ever beautiful in their revolving chaos. Like chocolate, only taking on form temporarily, for the purpose of being admired and consumed, and then to melt again, into energy, then into no-thingness. My luck knows no end, it simply is, and evolves.

This forbidding city of concrete cubes, straight steel, and reflecting glass amazes me by its people and creative energy. Any visitor can join the experience to float on the surface of its sea of life. Street signs are bilingual, so getting lost is hard, and going with the flow is easy when you adapt to it, with so much to see.

In One Continuous Mistake – Four Noble Truths for Writers, Gail Sher challenged her readers to “find a way to describe five different silences precisely”, and “within each of five clamorous settings filter out the silent core and articulate its nature.”

As I listened to customer chatter and the repeated exclamations by Starbucks baristas to their incoming and outgoing guests, it came as a shock that I could find silence in myself, indestructible it seemed, like soundless water flowing over a weathered rock.

And as I met my silence, I smiled, at no one in particular, feeling quite at home among my fellow citizens in a store so brightly decorated for Christmas.


Seeking out silence, I felt like I was facing up to the swirling void inside and around me, knowing that miracles are calling out to be born, like shining stars appearing in a dark December night.

Photo: Golden gingko tree (top) and Tokyo’s skyline surrounding the Imperial Palace (bottom).