Martha shares a story from when she spent time in Alaska, much of it in solutide and silence. Apparently she was out gathering berries with some friends who were a little distance away. She was picking berries from a large shrub when she suddenly felt like she should move away, so she stopped picking and went to rejoin her friends. What they could see but she couldnt, was that there had been a huge Grizzly bear also nibbling berries just on the other side of the shrub! She realised that all her time in silence had somehow sensitised her to the presence of the bear, and so she had moved herself safely away from a dangerous confrontation.
Yes, slience can feel alarming. On a retreat our teacher once said ‘You’re not here to entertain each other’ and, as a bit of an introvert, this came to me as a huge relief. We do feel like we have to perform, entertain, charm, make people laugh, make them comfortable, ease tensions and talk talk talk. It can make group situations like a week-long retreat quite exhausting! So the permission not to talk felt like a wonderful release of responsibility.
What a beautiful way of describing it Susan, and I think that’s what I felt when I met Martha/Maggie…and not in a saccharine way either. She was quite sharply critical of patriarchal aspects of the Church and its history, and it seemed to me that she wouldn’t suffer fools gladly. You would know exactly where you stood with her!
I am a regular attender at a local Quaker meeting and struggle at times to find silence..my anxious mind darts from thought to thought, sometimes worrisome, but not always. This essay reminds me that there are many times and places where I can settle into silence. Kayaking on the sea, walking in the woods, painting and drawing.
On another note…I was watching a movie last night and there was an aerial shot of the swirling ocean, an earthly, or should I say oceanic model for one of your remarkable swirling paintings.
Yes, for me it’s drawing that helps me settle into a quieter place. I think it’s to do with the rhythmic movement, drawing, walking, paddling, swimming lengths…I often find sitting practice quite hard, but at least I get a good look at that anxious, jittery mind when I do!
Thank you for sharing this. I have heard so much about Maggie Ross from Chris Whittington at our weekly meditation practice over Zoom - amazing that you have actually met her! There’s a link also to Mary Robinson, Ireland’s first female president, who was invited by Archbishop Desmond Tutu to be part of The Elders, a group of humble elder statesmen and women seeking to be “prisoners of hope” as Tutu put it: not idealists or optimists but people who just won’t let go of the idea that it doesn’t have to be like this! https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m0021jph?partner=uk.co.bbc&origin=share-mobile
Knowing the oars will soon mount in the oarlocks is welcome news, Samantha. I confess I’m glad you were away for a while, allowing this reader to catch up on past essays you kindly re-shared.
Margaret’s sharing of what she’s learned from taking a vow of silence in a religious order is both alarming and comforting. That I try to be entertaining and gain attention is alarming. That I might also maintain silence and avoid seeking the spotlight is comforting. Ironically, as I’ve aged and my hearing has become diminished, I’ve become sensitive to noise broadly speaking. Boom box cars that vibrate the panels of my car! Loud voices. Several TVs all tuned to different sound sources playing at once. As if being tuned by Nature to silence as a refuge.
The conversation with Margaret raised a fundamental question on the topic: As a fetus develops in the uterus, the mother’s heartbeat is ever present. Homo sapiens evolved in Africa. And drums of various sizes and sounds seem to have been a central part of their lives. Socially, and in warfare. (Pardon the sweeping generalizations here.) The implicit question is whether those origins coupled with constant heartbeat exposure created an aversion to silence?
Mysteries notwithstanding, today I also enjoyed seeing several of your paintings appearing in this earlier essay. A grand return indeed!
Indeed, actual acoustic silence is rare indeed and rather freakish. I once visited an anechoic chamber in a university, and it was an unsettling experience to hear absolutely nothing, and then I noticed the swoosh swoosh of my blood, my heartbeat, my breath…no silence. But I think what Maggie, and other teachers like Thich Nhat Hanh, really mean is that external silence is useful because it can help us find internal silence, which is much more important, and once we do find it we can tune into it no matter how noisy things are around us. I’ve got a bit of work to do there!
Lovely. Much as I love - and spend hours with - music and dance, I'm also keen to make space for more silence. We do indeed need both. Whenever I've done a full-day silent retreat (done a few, in company but silent, at organised retreat days), my experience*every single time* at the end of the day has been the feeling that I want more, and that I wish I didn't have to go home, but could spend 3 days or even a whole week in silence. It's astonishing how the quality of being and noticing shifts, and how the quality of relationship to others in the silent space gets enriched. I recommend it as a practice. Here's a retreat space that I love and know, and their particular offering that I will, I swear, get to at some point soon, now my busy years are over. https://www.othonawestdorset.org.uk/silence-sea
This looks like a lovely place to get reaquainted with silence, Caroline. Indeed, silence together takes on a new depth, a shared exploration, and a support for each other.
It's absolutely lovely there, I stayed just as a B&B guest, best London stay I ever had, it was calming even though the trains went past very near my window!
“Gradually, over time, again without your knowing why or how, silence will seat itself in you, in your core, and you can access it with increasing fluidity. In fact eventually you will be living from the wellspring of silence instead of having silence as something you seek. It will come to live in your core.”
What wise words. I felt them almost like a prayer as I read them. May we all find silence and May it spark our humanity, our creativity, our presence. Thank you for sharing all that you did here, Sam!
Yes, I love this idea that silence is already within us, that we just need to welcome it, and it will transform us. What I also really appreciate about Martha'/Maggie's take is that she recognises the political aspect of silence, and how it grounds us in a deeper wisdom than the noise around us.
Thank you for this. Silence and solitude are nourishing and essential for creative work too. They are part of that innerspace from which things arise, the gaps between words and atoms. The vast emptiness, vastly full.
Thanks for sharing Martha with us. I had not thought of silence as active, let alone as a kind of work. Those insights are rather profound for me. Thank you!
I'm pretty happy in solitude and silence, though I noticed that it's easier to get myself into a silent 'place' (the not meditating but simply being quiet thing) if I'm already feeling fairly content. My challenge is to be able to do the same when I have frazzled/overwhelmed thoughts, I'm sure it would help. A long walk usually does the trick, but that's not always available.
My goodness this is refreshing. I love how she encourages “not meditating or doing anything with the mind except allowing the silence to seek it.” 🙏
Yes, the way whe explains it is so straightforward and accessible, isn’t it? All we need to do is remember to take a few moments and notice.
Thank you. A beautiful piece of writing and a joy to discover Martha. This helps me understand why I love to walk alone.
Martha shares a story from when she spent time in Alaska, much of it in solutide and silence. Apparently she was out gathering berries with some friends who were a little distance away. She was picking berries from a large shrub when she suddenly felt like she should move away, so she stopped picking and went to rejoin her friends. What they could see but she couldnt, was that there had been a huge Grizzly bear also nibbling berries just on the other side of the shrub! She realised that all her time in silence had somehow sensitised her to the presence of the bear, and so she had moved herself safely away from a dangerous confrontation.
Too many people are scared of silence, so this is a lovely reminder of its importance. I cherish moments of silence.
Yes, slience can feel alarming. On a retreat our teacher once said ‘You’re not here to entertain each other’ and, as a bit of an introvert, this came to me as a huge relief. We do feel like we have to perform, entertain, charm, make people laugh, make them comfortable, ease tensions and talk talk talk. It can make group situations like a week-long retreat quite exhausting! So the permission not to talk felt like a wonderful release of responsibility.
Thank you for this lovely offering filled with what feels like elementary kindness, flow, and wisdom.
What a beautiful way of describing it Susan, and I think that’s what I felt when I met Martha/Maggie…and not in a saccharine way either. She was quite sharply critical of patriarchal aspects of the Church and its history, and it seemed to me that she wouldn’t suffer fools gladly. You would know exactly where you stood with her!
I am a regular attender at a local Quaker meeting and struggle at times to find silence..my anxious mind darts from thought to thought, sometimes worrisome, but not always. This essay reminds me that there are many times and places where I can settle into silence. Kayaking on the sea, walking in the woods, painting and drawing.
On another note…I was watching a movie last night and there was an aerial shot of the swirling ocean, an earthly, or should I say oceanic model for one of your remarkable swirling paintings.
Yes, for me it’s drawing that helps me settle into a quieter place. I think it’s to do with the rhythmic movement, drawing, walking, paddling, swimming lengths…I often find sitting practice quite hard, but at least I get a good look at that anxious, jittery mind when I do!
Thank you for sharing this. I have heard so much about Maggie Ross from Chris Whittington at our weekly meditation practice over Zoom - amazing that you have actually met her! There’s a link also to Mary Robinson, Ireland’s first female president, who was invited by Archbishop Desmond Tutu to be part of The Elders, a group of humble elder statesmen and women seeking to be “prisoners of hope” as Tutu put it: not idealists or optimists but people who just won’t let go of the idea that it doesn’t have to be like this! https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m0021jph?partner=uk.co.bbc&origin=share-mobile
Lovely to hear about all these connections and crossovers Jenny! And thanks for all the fascinating links - I’m off to check them all out now…
Knowing the oars will soon mount in the oarlocks is welcome news, Samantha. I confess I’m glad you were away for a while, allowing this reader to catch up on past essays you kindly re-shared.
Margaret’s sharing of what she’s learned from taking a vow of silence in a religious order is both alarming and comforting. That I try to be entertaining and gain attention is alarming. That I might also maintain silence and avoid seeking the spotlight is comforting. Ironically, as I’ve aged and my hearing has become diminished, I’ve become sensitive to noise broadly speaking. Boom box cars that vibrate the panels of my car! Loud voices. Several TVs all tuned to different sound sources playing at once. As if being tuned by Nature to silence as a refuge.
The conversation with Margaret raised a fundamental question on the topic: As a fetus develops in the uterus, the mother’s heartbeat is ever present. Homo sapiens evolved in Africa. And drums of various sizes and sounds seem to have been a central part of their lives. Socially, and in warfare. (Pardon the sweeping generalizations here.) The implicit question is whether those origins coupled with constant heartbeat exposure created an aversion to silence?
Mysteries notwithstanding, today I also enjoyed seeing several of your paintings appearing in this earlier essay. A grand return indeed!
Indeed, actual acoustic silence is rare indeed and rather freakish. I once visited an anechoic chamber in a university, and it was an unsettling experience to hear absolutely nothing, and then I noticed the swoosh swoosh of my blood, my heartbeat, my breath…no silence. But I think what Maggie, and other teachers like Thich Nhat Hanh, really mean is that external silence is useful because it can help us find internal silence, which is much more important, and once we do find it we can tune into it no matter how noisy things are around us. I’ve got a bit of work to do there!
🙋🏼♂️
Thank you, Samantha. I spend my afternoons letting the silence bend over me once and a while- and it’s so peaceful.
Beautiful. Wishing you a peaceful afternoon, Luis.
Lovely. Much as I love - and spend hours with - music and dance, I'm also keen to make space for more silence. We do indeed need both. Whenever I've done a full-day silent retreat (done a few, in company but silent, at organised retreat days), my experience*every single time* at the end of the day has been the feeling that I want more, and that I wish I didn't have to go home, but could spend 3 days or even a whole week in silence. It's astonishing how the quality of being and noticing shifts, and how the quality of relationship to others in the silent space gets enriched. I recommend it as a practice. Here's a retreat space that I love and know, and their particular offering that I will, I swear, get to at some point soon, now my busy years are over. https://www.othonawestdorset.org.uk/silence-sea
This looks like a lovely place to get reaquainted with silence, Caroline. Indeed, silence together takes on a new depth, a shared exploration, and a support for each other.
I went on retreat recently at the Royal Foundation of St Katharine in London, and my room was called Othona - I had to look it up!
https://www.rfsk.org.uk
Wow, Jenny this looks like a wonderful place to stay! I’ll definitely book a room next time I need somewhere in London…
It's absolutely lovely there, I stayed just as a B&B guest, best London stay I ever had, it was calming even though the trains went past very near my window!
What a find!
Thank you, Samantha . I so appreciate the reflections you gave and your reading of them….beautiful.
So glad you enjoyed them Christa!
“Gradually, over time, again without your knowing why or how, silence will seat itself in you, in your core, and you can access it with increasing fluidity. In fact eventually you will be living from the wellspring of silence instead of having silence as something you seek. It will come to live in your core.”
What wise words. I felt them almost like a prayer as I read them. May we all find silence and May it spark our humanity, our creativity, our presence. Thank you for sharing all that you did here, Sam!
Yes, I love this idea that silence is already within us, that we just need to welcome it, and it will transform us. What I also really appreciate about Martha'/Maggie's take is that she recognises the political aspect of silence, and how it grounds us in a deeper wisdom than the noise around us.
Thank you for this. Silence and solitude are nourishing and essential for creative work too. They are part of that innerspace from which things arise, the gaps between words and atoms. The vast emptiness, vastly full.
Beautiful, thank you Deborah.
Thanks for sharing Martha with us. I had not thought of silence as active, let alone as a kind of work. Those insights are rather profound for me. Thank you!
They were for me too, Kathryn. I learned a lot from Maggie/Martha.
I'm pretty happy in solitude and silence, though I noticed that it's easier to get myself into a silent 'place' (the not meditating but simply being quiet thing) if I'm already feeling fairly content. My challenge is to be able to do the same when I have frazzled/overwhelmed thoughts, I'm sure it would help. A long walk usually does the trick, but that's not always available.
Beautiful, thank you. This felt like a gathering of silence and peace in itself.
A lovely post and I will try and adopt this in my daily practice. Thanks for writing!