Yoga Levels: Daily Silence

I was in charge of the pinata at my daughter's second birthday party, and after a solid hour of trying to speak loudly and clearly to a room full of tots anxious to get their hands on the blue bat that would lead them to a bagful of candy and toys, I completely lost my voice.

At first, it was just a bit raspy. But by the next day, it was completely gone. No sound.

On a superficial level, having no voice is inconvenient. In New York City, I don't know that I would venture into the world without a voice. It's an important part of surviving, getting needs met, doing business, relating to friends and loved ones.

However, on a deeper level, it was wonderful. You know, some people pay a great deal of money to go on Vipassana retreats where silence is officiated by the leaders of the retreat, and even then, attendees have been known to sneak away with their cell phones to speak. I was having my own Vipassana retreat -- for free! And it would be impossible for me to cheat. Physically impossible.

My voicelessness lasted for about three days. Whenever I had something important to interject into a moment or conversation, I realized that I couldn't speak. And then I realized that what I was about to say wasn't really that important. I felt my important ego shrinking, and it felt great. I began to listen a little closer to the world around me, and to the people in my life.

From a yogic point of view, the world that presents itself to us in each moment is the great teacher or guru. Wherever you find yourself right now has the energy of life flowing through every object and situation, guiding you, teaching you, showing you what you need to know. Each moment is perfectly placed before us, and within it is everything we could possibly need to understand -- if we're listening.

Without speaking, I was forced to pay close attention to what each moment was showing me. I decided to spend at least one hour of every day practicing as much silence as possible. It wasn't so inconvenient as it was wonderful.

On a superficial level, losing my voice was inconvenient. On a deeper, yogic level, losing my voice was a deep lesson in life, listening, and seeing the precious gift of every moment. Including laryngitis.

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Comments

[Ben Rieth]

I just returned from outdoors summer camp in the North Woods of Wisconsin at a place called Camp Manitowish. I led two canoe trips into the wilderness with groups of 12 and 13 year old boys. Our trips lasted about five days as we paddled up and down the areas many lakes and streams.

As the trip progressed, we found ourselves speaking less and less every day. I noticed that my mind became more focused, taking in the beauty of the surrounding landscapes. There was also less to worry about: where are we going to camp? and what are we going to eat? these were the only things on our mind.

When we stopped to eat our trail lunch and started conversing, an interesting thing started to happen. It became apparent that the real talkers of the group were the first in line arguing over food; while the silent fellows who had been the ones setting up our tents and portaging our canoes were not. This was somatic of a reversal -- now it was the quiet guys leading the group whereas before it had been the talkers.

I learned from my experience on trail its not always the ones talking who I need to listen to. I'm also finding that I want my voice to be heard more. (b/c I think used to be one of those quiet campers.) And when I am not talking, or listening I make sure to find time to enjoy the silence.

[Olivia Rosewood - Huffpost Blogger]

Wow, what an amazing experience. It seems like you began to fall into the natural (and to many spiritual practitioners as well as scientists, the most healthy!) way of being a human: focusing on the task at hand, being in the present moment, taking each moment as it comes, and enjoying silence as a natural aspect of your life experience.

[rlxng]

I was lost my voice for about ten days. It was torture. And I kept trying to talk, which just made it worse; Very painful--every word hurt. Next time, instead of fighting it, I'll try your way.

[Olivia Rosewood - Huffpost Blogger]

When you lose your voice, your choices are few. You can either be miserable and in pain, or you can accept it and make the most of it. We don't get many opportunities in life to be silent and enhance our ability to listen.

[intrstd]

I have tried practicing silence in every day life, but I think you have to truly lose your voice for that to work. People really want to talk, and if you don't have a great excuse for not talking to them, they think you're weird or rude or something. And that's not it at all, but that's how they interpret it. And the whole point of yoga is to bring peace into your daily life, not create more drama, right? So how do you do it--a little bit of silence every day--without offending poeple at work or in your life? I don't know if it's realistic.

[Olivia Rosewood - Huffpost Blogger]

I think the key is to find time when you don't have to engage with anyone. Perhaps when you're on a walk, or try driving in your without music or news. If you have friends who have tired silence, it's actually very lovely to be together in silence every once in while. Yoga class counts--if the instructor isn't too chatty.

[PatsyMetzgerDancers]

I've never lost my voice that bad. That must've been some party.

[Olivia Rosewood - Huffpost Blogger]

It was a wild one.

[crtcl]

I have spent hundreds of dollars trying Vipassana. People always talk. What's that about? You mean all along I should have just tried to get laryngitis? On one level, how sad. On another level, that's cool.

[intrstd]

People actually talk to you at a retreat where you've paid not to talk?? How rude.

[crtcl]

I don't think they mean to be rude, I think it's more that they can't help themselves. It's hard for most people to not talk. Harder than it might seem.