The Healing Beauty of Silence in Life and Death

I couldn’t face the days that followed my mother’s death. In fact, I got so sick, I couldn’t even go to her funeral. I remembering having a conversation with her in her final moments telling her how proud I was to be her son and how much I wanted to show her I would continue to make her proud. The tears that rolled down her eyes said it all. She could no longer speak, nor see, physically that is, but a mother’s tears don’t need to talk. I left the room she was lying in moments later in tears myself, almost knowing she would pass away just a few hours later that day. And the questions tormented me over the years. How could one such loving human being endure so much pain in her life? Who will I now confide in when she is gone? Who would understand me?

So out of searching, I left the country I had grown-up in. One day, I was in Kamakura, Japan - a town famous for it’s temple and historical rule. I trekked to the very top of a hill behind one of the temples - it was an awesome site. A beautiful mix of ocean, mountains, sky and sunshine. That night, I slept in a nearby hotel and I dreamed of my mother. She was busy washing the dishes but had the uncanny skill of conversing with me at the same time. She told me she was fine and that nothing had changed. She was slim, wearing tracksuit pants and her eyes were as vibrant as the evening shade of green that reflects off the ocean. She assured me that she was well and even though I could no longer see her, she was always listening.

When I awoke, I felt the urge to go and trek up that mountain again. But there was something different about that hike. It felt so smooth, so easy. I could feel her presence everywhere. Every step on the rock path was as delicate as the choice of her words. Every bird I heard on those steps, was as beautiful as my mother’s voice. Every flower I saw was as pretty as her smile. The gentle breeze was as gentle as her presence. Even the color of the ocean, when I arrived at the top, reflected that same green of my mother’s eyes. From that moment, I realized two things. One, is that she was never lost. She was everywhere! Whenever I touched the earth, I felt her presence. When I trekked on that path, there were four feet. And as such, the belief that I had lost my mother, dissipated. There was no loss, because (leading to two), all of the statements mentioned earlier are related to my own self - not to her. It was all about self-concern - my loss, no-one understands me, who was ‘I’ going to confide in? All the pain and suffering I endured had nothing to do with her. But when one realizes the extraordinary relationship of nature, and each other, the ‘I’ is nowhere to be found.

The gentlest of men or women flower the earth with silence. The bravest of them through the silence of a smiling sunflower. The silence of a colorful sky at sunset. The silence of listening to another human’s beautiful voice. The silence of feeling the air within and the breeze without. In that silence, the life of all people, the life of all animals, the life of all nature, gone or living, is in everyone’s footsteps.

From the upcoming book, “There is Nothing Here - The Beauty of Life”.