Jonathan Livingston Seagull

“They are saying in the Flock that if you are not the Son of the Great Gull Himself”, Fletcher told Jonathan one morning after Advanced Speed Practice, “then you are a thousand years ahead of your time.”
Jonathan sighed. The price of being misunderstood he thought. They call you devil or they call you god. “What do you think, Fletch? Are we ahead of our time?”
A long silence, “Well, this kind of flying has always been here to be learned by anyone who wanted to discover it; that’s got nothing to do with time. We’re ahead of the fashion, maybe. Ahead of the way that most gulls fly.”“That’s something,” Jonathan said, rolling to glide inverted for a while. “That’s not half as bad as being ahead of our time”.
Richard Bach
Jonathan Livingston Seagull

The Seagull Speaks Creative Commons Copyright

Tuesday, December 8, 2020

Freedom in Silence: Absence and Presence



“The last sound is not the end of the music. If the first note is related to the silence that precedes it, then the last note must be related to the silence that follows it.”
 
Daniel Barenboim 
‘Everything is Connected The Power of Music

We cannot hit the delete button and expect the music to suddenly stop immediately, leaving no trace. The music continues to resonate from the past, into the present and then flows into and informs the future. 
 
Ripples of sound flowing ever-onward: inward and outward even in what appears to be the silence following the music. The absence of the music contrasts with the prior presence of the music and can make us miss it even more.

This is perhaps related to the grief we feel when a valued relationship ends -
when we are cut-off from that person physically. We might say that the music created by the presence of that person in our life still resonates in our hearts, even in their absence. 

So, there is no point in denying the presence of our lost loved one within the silence of their absence. Perhaps it’s better to acknowledge their presence and the connection we will always have with them, despite their absence. This seems to me to be a nourishing and healing approach. 

It does not deny, de-value or discard the other person or the shared past. It does not cut-off the other person and unilaterally disconnect from them. It does not punish or condemn or obliterate them from our past. This is not freedom from the past, this approach actually ties us to the past.

All cutting-off does is avoid and deny and 'hook-in', which, it seems to me, can never lead to true healing or personal evolution and development. Avoidance leads to suppression, rather than true freedom and liberation. 

We must engage with the past fully, unconditionally and bravely in order to process it, release it, set it free. Otherwise, the past - the very thing we are trying to avoid - becomes trapped within us.  

Maybe this is why both music and silence are so healing - they can both help process grief and a broken heart. And maybe this is also why buildings like concert halls and cathedrals are so important to the bereaved and the heartbroken. They are sacred spaces in which music fills the silence, presence fills absence and where we can connect with those people and times we still love, even in their absence. 

I read this recently:  
 
“Only if we can honour the past can we be nourished by it.” 
 
I’ve thought a lot about this - it’s very true. That is how we find continuity in life. All the highs and lows, mistakes, successes, joys and sorrows are part of the irreducible whole, which flows from past to future and which is comprised of both absence and presence. Absence and presence cannot exist without each other. 

It's important to continue to remember and honour all the shared 'small moments' - both during presence and in absence. 
 
Allow yourself to cherish what freedom there is in silence. 
 
 



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