Because I Can Teach: Journal for Authenticity: (10) Be

Silence is the beginning and the end of writing—end in the sense of finishing; and, the point, the purpose of it. On The Wall end of the silence spectrum, there is being dumbfounded, hornswoggled, speechless, mute, at a loss for words, gagged, trapped, holding one’s breath. On The Stillpoint end of the spectrum is nothing-more-to-say, peace, serenity, calm—openness, receptivity, breathing, freedom, bliss.

Why, in a post about keeping a journal, write about wordlessness? Because, unlike the mute silence of The Wall, a place of no possibilities, The Stillpoint is a place of infinite possibilities. In Buddhist meditation, this is the place of Nirvana. In my conception of it, this is the place some call God—the ultimate projection of creation. Sacred texts claim that seeing the face of God could kill a person—that it is awful (full of awe). Our conscious minds—our egos—are terrified of dissolution. To be in a place without thought is to dissolve into the infinite. It is rare. It is, literally, awesome.

I’m waxing theological. But coming to The Stillpoint is the logical and practical result of writing. Words lead to wordlessness—the surcease of endless distracting mind chatter—as a thorn can pluck another thorn from a finger. Anger, strife, power, love, communication, creativity—all that spent—the reward is freedom—that glow, that bliss.

The Stillpoint cannot be contrived or forced—but the conditions for it can be cultivated, just as we cannot force a lotus to blossom, but can provide fertile soil, water, congenial temperatures and light so that it might. Better still, we can find the lotus in its natural habitat. No wonder that the image for this top energy center of the pyramid correlates with the top of our heads, that it is often depicted as a lotus blossom. From the muck of anger, the struggle to surface from anxiety and effort, the warmth of love, the trust of communication, the joy of creation—the bud bursts through to the air and light. If words come, they come with ease—off the tops of our heads.

My mentor Paul Ziff recommended that the only writing discipline is to sit there—Woody Allen said that 80% is just showing up. To be in The Stillpoint is to cultivate a spirit of receptivity. To be willing to let go of pressuring ourselves to break silence. To trust.

When you come to a stopping point in writing, discern whether it’s The Wall or The Stillpoint. The one is laced with frustration and strain—the other with satisfaction and peace. The Wall is to be out of breath—expired. The Stillpoint is to breathe free—inspired. In The Stillpoint we learn to receive words instead of generating them. The Wall is what isn’t. The Stillpoint is what is. Be.