The First Silence in the World
Welome to Treehouse Treasure and the Tree of Serendipity.
The chapter is called "The First Silence in the World," and it opens with a beautiful verse:
Spring comes with its flowers, autumn with the moon,
summer with breezes, winter with snow;
when useless things don't stick in the mind,
that is your best season. ~ Wumen Huaikai
As I sat with this passage, I was struck by how often we imagine meditation as something we must do—a task, a discipline, an effort of concentration. Yet Tarrant points toward something entirely different.
He writes that the practice is not about adding effort but about releasing what we carry: our worries, our pride, our attachment to outcomes, our ancient griefs, and even our efforts to be good.
What if stillness is not something we create?
What if it is something already waiting beneath all the things we are holding?
One image from the chapter especially stayed with me. Tarrant describes sitting quietly beside a waterhole at dawn. The animals come and go. They drink and wander away. Yet we remain.
Thoughts are much the same.
Memories arrive.
Worries arrive.
Plans arrive.
Excitement arrives.
Sorrows arrive.
We don't have to chase them away. We don't have to follow them. We can simply remain.
Eventually, what seemed so important begins to settle back into the silence from which it came.
The second section of the chapter explores what he calls "Naming the Animals."
As consciousness returns from the great silence, we begin noticing what is moving through us. Fear. Anger. Grief. Longing. Joy. Hope.
There is wisdom in simply naming them.
If we can say, "This is fear," then the whole world is no longer fear.
If we can say, "This is grief," then the whole world is no longer grief.
The feeling becomes one visitor among many rather than the ruler of the entire kingdom.
This reminded me of something I often return to: awareness itself is larger than any experience passing through it.
The chapter ends with a beautiful insight. Naming helps us enter relationship with life. We begin to notice the world again with wonder, like Adam naming the animals in the first garden, or a child delighting in saying, "woman," "man," "apple."
Perhaps spiritual practice is not only about transcending the world.
Perhaps it is also about learning to meet it again with fresh eyes.
Today, may we spend a few moments beside the waterhole.
May thoughts come and go.
May we discover the silence beneath them.
And may innocence draw near once again.
🌿
Today's Gift from the Muse:
When useless things don't stick in the mind, that is your best season.
May All Beings Be Free. May All Beings Be Loved. May All Beings Have Peace and Joy in their Hearts.
Om Shanti Shanti Shanti
