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Un Sound

In a recent post I mentioned being in silence, as one of the pivots I rely on to… turn on, tune in, and drop out.
I should say, at the outset of what here follows, the silence describes what is happening inside of me, not necessarily what is happening to me.
Sounds, not music, per se, but the aural experience, seems to be one of the crucial touchstones of allowing  myself to disappear. It can certainly be music, but it can also be the sounds of any external phenomenon (think, the quiescent sounds of a city heard ten, twenty stories below, echoing in thinned out tones,  up from the street; imagine the rhythmic crash of the surf on the beach, the slapping of wet ropes against aluminum masts of a hundred boats at dock, the gurgle of a shallow brook, a garbled television a block away, the crying of a child across the train platform, the song of birds at twilight in a city park). There are literally an infinitude of triggers that could serve to transport the mind beyond itself to that place where you are not entirely, or only, you. It can also be a stark silence, an utter obliterating silence enveloping you like thick smoke in the night,  and the way it reveals the true volume of our internal dialogue (deafening, in many cases).
Seeking mindlessness, willingly, is often assisted by being totally engrossed in something else that is truly mindless.  .  .  How beautiful it is, then to arrive there, and find yourself not exactly alone in the universe, again.

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