Thursday, 15 September 2011

The Sweet Territory of Silence

As well as the outer voices we express, we all have inner voices too.  Some of these are not really ours.  They are the nagging voices of fear, regret or embarrassment.  The voice of a teacher, parent or boss who shamed us.  The envious voices of others who demand “who do you think you are?”.  Some of us call these our Gremlins.  As a coach and facilitator, I am often asked to help people to challenge these voices.  To chuck them some peanuts.  To tell them where to get off.....
We also have our own, genuine, inner voice.  The one that reflects the meaning we place on our experiences and the lessons we have learned.  The one that has guiding wisdom to offer. It is more subtle and less heard than the one we usually employ in public, especially in the workplace.  It often gets ignored and may be forced to get our attention in different ways - though a gut feeling, a sense of separation, a longing, or the physical ramifications of stress.
In my own experience, this voice is more lyrical and questioning.  Perhaps more poetic.  David Whyte describes how a poet: 
“tries to overhear himself 
say something, 
from which
in that silence,
it is impossible to retreat.
-- River Flow: New & Selected Poems 1984-2007
A coaching relationship creates the space in which a client can overhear herself.  At other times the coach picks up something the client says but does not really hear.  Notice that overhearing is different to hearing.  It is a snatched moment.  A glimpsed insight.  Something we might easily have missed in our busyness or business.  
Perhaps we could all make more space for this kind of silence in our lives.  Perhaps we would hear something really important.  Silence can be frightening.  It can feel like being alone.  It is unpredictable.  But there is comfort in it too.
As Gabrielle Roth says, in her powerful book Maps to Ecstasy:
"In many shamanic societies, if you came to a medicine person
complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed,
they would ask one of four questions. When did you stop dancing?
When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories?
When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?" 

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