One Silent Moment

The masked cries for help are the words I choose to listen to closest. They are hard to hear, as the chatter of happiness often disguises them, by the attitude of ‘I will be okay’; by the shame of needing help.  

I don’t listen to these cries because I need to help or because I am looking for answers from the spouting fountain of knowledge that sits before me. Instead, I listen for what is not being said because I find the truth of any moment lies between the words, like a profound book of knowledge sitting on the shelf, gathering dust, still unread, unloved.

The truth is far more straightforward; the words that keep us busy reflect our experience to a situation that glowingly defines our actions of reactions. A rose-colored view, rarely aligned with the truth; and even though we know this deep down inside, we seem to forget that what is often preached as a life rule or a suggested path forward, is just a simple experience, unique to just one.

Yet when the lesson is over and the predictable silence descends, all that remains is the truth, lingering in the space that we share. For me, this is the lesson when the masked cries find their voice and can be clearly heard.

These so precious moments where considered self-reflection become more relevant than the sounds of knowing are the moments that have the power to teach all you ever wanted to know.

Immersed in the silence of knowing, everybody’s lesson will be distinctly different. At times the teacher becomes the student; at times the student holds the wisdom. At times the answers come quick like a flood of truth, and at times you discover that there are no answers, just small truths one silent moment at a time.