A Time Before Sound

On silence, spirit, and the unseen forces that shape our inner and outer worlds.

The world has always been noisy. As a child, I felt a relentless urge to retreat into the silent quarters within.

But as I age, the pursuit of quiet becomes more than a desire. It becomes the only way I know how to be the child we often forget. It’s the only way I know how to keep noise from distorting the sacred things I carry inside. It’s the only thing I know that brings my words to life.

I’ve traveled far and often. I have had the unexpected gift of seeing beauty in corners of the country I may never have otherwise witnessed. The circumstances are unsavory. Nonetheless, I have seen places that nourish the forgotten parts of us. They can be found everywhere.

However, the noise is also the same everywhere.

Sirens scream through cities and echo through small towns alike, a violent serenade that seems to embody the essence of the human condition. Injury, hardship, and death.

Suffering is inevitable.

I offer a silent prayer each time the sirens pass, even though my belief in the supernatural remains at odds. Something deeper in me, beyond what’s rational and logical, finds comfort in the ancient knowing.

Call it faith. Call it hope. Whatever it is, I guard it fiercely.

Astronomy and biology have always amazed me. These disciplines, more than most, are driven by a desire to understand the divine. Their practitioners are seekers, dedicating lifetimes to unraveling the mystery of what this is.

Dark matter accounts for nearly a third of the known universe. It’s a silent force binding planets, stars, and ancient asteroids and comets. And then there’s dark energy, the greater portion, which pulls everything apart, expanding space itself. We cannot see or touch these forces, yet they are undeniably real. They shape galaxies, ripple through the space between atoms, and even whisper in the space between our thoughts.

The fraction that remains is us. What we see, the stars, the planets, and even ourselves, were forged in the death of what came before. Creation has always been the child of destruction. A nova explodes, and from its ashes, new life begins. So it is with us. When we die, we return to the very creation that gave us our first breath, and in every breath, that creation drums our spirit to action.

We are life and death personified.

Even within our cells, down to the atomic level, there is space between particles. In that space, fields surge with randomness and potential. These are forces science cannot fully grasp, though it chases them with devotion.

My thoughts on the matter add nothing to that pursuit. But they matter to me. So don’t take my concepts to heart, even if they are from the heart. I hope that in that randomness lies a truth, that what is beyond us emerges through our attentive focus to know. To know the moment you can never quite grasp, because as soon as you do, it’s gone.

To touch the silence within, to know the unknown, we may need to turn away from the past, the future, even the present as we perceive it. For like water, the moment we try to grasp it, it escapes.

Presence cannot be possessed, only felt.

Find beauty in every waking moment, even if it’s difficult. I find it always in walks through nature.

How often have you felt the wind’s weightless hush? Eyes lifted toward the endless blue, toes brushing soft strands of grass as the earth cradles and molds each step with a greeting and an untimely departure. Nature shares lessons, humorous signs that find me during unexpected times. And in her silent lectures, the quiet spirit wakes.

I’ve come to believe that the quiet I seek isn’t out there. It’s inside, deep within, where the embers of spiritual pursuit still glow. Faint, but steady.

The world cries out in grief while I do my best to tend to my own. How many burdens can one soul carry before the stones he once laid begin to scatter?

To live away from the noise isn’t easy. But I imagine a near future where the many gifts we’ve been given are used with consciousness, not compulsion. A world where my inner life is no longer at war with the outer one.

This is my search.
My sadhana.

Not one of renunciation, but of reclamation.

Whatever life brings, I will take it as mine. I will nurture it, love it, and honor it. For it was given to me long before I was an idea and long before the labels we now hold sacred had names.

There was a time before sound.
And it still lives in me.
It lives in you.

With love,
Anand