Silence and Words in Times of Consolation

One of the things that I had to get used to and learn when I left traditional and illiberal religion to explore alternatives, was moving from a mode of passively receiving ready-made teachings and doctrines to a mode of active listening—first to what is happening within me and second to what is happening around me. This is what mindfulness and meditation practices that are completely silent, such as Zen and seiza, helped me experience.

Now, there were two immediate realizations that came to me just after beginning a meditation practice:

1. First that I wasn't really always at the driver seat of my mind—that thoughts, emotions, and other forms of contents come and go as they will within my field of consciousness.
2. Second, the action of active listening through silent meditation had profound therapeutic effects that are at par, if not more powerful, than words of consolation I received in the past through reading the Bible, listening to a sermon, or receiving guidance from a pastor. Not to sound overly promotional, but I sincerely think it was my silent meditation practice that got me through three critical life events and many other less challenging situations without being part of a constant spiritual community for more than a decade.

One of the things I notice makes silent meditation complementary to a liberal or free religious practice is that it nurtures trust with oneself—trust that answers and comfort will come in whatever form they will as long as one nurtures this active listening. At the same time, it also nurtures one's ability to listen to others, the larger human society, and the even larger circle of cosmic cooperative community by being as present as one is when one is alone in meditation. And because of this, one is able to be a stream of comfort and consolation to others.

But here is the crux: everything I've said so far about silent meditation doesn't always work.

Despite having a meditation practice for about a decade, there are times when my personal troubles and the anxieties I get from being part of a community, the larger human society, and the cosmos overpower a meditation session. These troubles and anxieties consume it and the therapeutic effect doesn't come. At the end of the session, I actually had more troubles and anxieties than before it, just because I opened myself up to more inflow of thoughts and emotions—and at those times, the inflow could often feel like a roaring river rather than a silent stream occassionallly interrupted by a fish.

Of course, I don't meditate just for its therapeutic effect like how I used to pray to God just to ask for something. Most of the time I meditate with the intention that multiple sessions would accrete over time to truly develop trust in myself, in others, and the larger whole. But, I also can't deny that more often than I want to, there are times when I really needed consolation and comfort and, having no clear sources of it, I immediately look toward my meditation practice for them. Of course, I have other people—family, friends, and now a spiritual community—to help me get past a challenging situation. But those of us who grew up in more traditional religious households would understand the necessity of personal spiritual practices, such as prayer, reading a sacred text, or reading secondary texts about the sacred text when one is in need of consolation. Now, as I gently move into a more liberal and free religious life, I'm finding that these personal spiritual practices may no longer be as accessibe as they were before or aren't as clear as they were in form. And the reason I'm bringing this up is that sometimes the emotional or spiritual pain we are experiencing calls for similar sources of consolation. Sometimes, situations need more than the great and beautiful silence of meditation.

During these times, I find myself looking for thoughts and words outside of me—words from other people written or uttered, words that represent thoughts outside of what I'm capable of thinking at that time, words and thoughts that don't come to me in my own earnest silent meditation practice. In other words, there are times when silence itself is insufficient to get through an emotional or spiritual challenge.

And this brings me to the prompt I offer the group today.

What have you found in your own liberal and free religious practice and lives that bring you consolation in difficult times whether as an individual or a part of a collective? And I wonder how silence and words interplay during those times?