This is not a political newsletter but I would be remiss to not admit that the past few weeks have taken a toll. Election fatigue has rolled over into post-election exhaustion.
I’ve hesitated to write anything at all. I won’t be offering any ‘hot takes’ on the election because there are plenty of those, and I don’t find them particularly helpful. I’m not interested in adding the fuel of blame and shame to the raging fires of fear and desperation.
I return to the basic tenet of Seven Senses -- which is a quest of creativity and spirituality (the two are intimately intertwined for me). So I’ll share what I find helpful in these times – in fact in all times – seeking silence amongst the noise, regaining a sense of serenity amongst the chaos.
A couple weeks before the election, I noticed how easily words could be misconstrued, even amongst people who share the same beliefs, including loved ones. Everyone seemed on the attack and the defensive, jumping to conclusions that created a wider gulf amongst us. I felt myself at the edge of that abyss, the coals of my own anger being pushed around. And I wondered: What can I do at this very moment? What would help?
My instinct led me to one of the places where I find reprieve. I checked the Vipassana meditation website, and specifically my favorite center by Yosemite. It seemed like a miracle when I saw that a retreat was available at the end of January. The applications must have opened that very morning as they usually fill up in a matter of minutes. I filled out the form, and the next day was notified that my application had been accepted.
This is not my first silent rodeo. I attended my first retreat in 2012 and have been practicing (and occasionally teaching) this type of meditation ever since. For those unfamiliar with Vipassana: the retreats are 10 days long in full silence (other than listening to the audio guided instructions). The meditation style is one of the most ancient techniques, which is said to have been practiced by the Buddha himself.
Though the methodology might be inspired by Buddhism, the centers are non-dogmatic and open to all religious backgrounds (or none). In many ways, the approach feels very scientific as it relies solely on the breath and the sensations in our body (no visualization, no mantra, no chanting -- nothing ”woo-woo”).
The ones I attend, as taught by S.N Goenka, are donation-based centers – which means anyone is welcome no matter their financial situation. There’s no suggested donation amount, so at the end of the 10 days one can donate (or not) whatever amount feels right. Those funds are paid forward to cover the cost of food and amenities for the next attendees. During the retreat, meditators are lodged and fed vegetarian meals. It is fully volunteer-run: from the food which is cooked and served by old students, to the assistant meditation teachers who undergo a deep and dedicated training.
In fact, the way it’s organized feels like a microcosm of what is possible based on mutual-aid, service, and the natural generosity of people. There are over 375 Vipassana centers in 94 countries and each one is organized on the same basis and principle. It goes to show how successful this model has been and it also reminds me of the giving-nature of humanity.
Being silent for 10 days is an unusual and powerful experience. Each time I’ve gone through it, it reminds me how often we use words to fill space, even when they’re not helpful or constructive. It also shows me how much gets communicated without words: through our body language, our facial expressions, and the energy we carry around and project onto others.
The technique is experiential, not intellectual. Through observing the body’s natural sensations, one learns how often we react to those sensations. When we have a pleasant feeling, we react with craving. When we experience an unpleasant sensation, we react with aversion. In other words, we are always reacting. Every word we speak and action we take first starts as a sensation in our body, which we automatically and unconsciously react to. We rarely take a moment to let the sensation pass before making a conscious choice on what to say and do.
In recent weeks, it’s been hard to not automatically react to everything happening around me. When we’re in fear and anxiety, our bodies are pumping cortisol and adrenaline, putting us into fight or flight mode. Our lizard brain takes over, making it challenging to make rational and thoughtful decisions.
The last Vipassana retreat I went on was three years ago and it feels time to return and refresh my practice. I didn’t know the election result when I signed up, and I also didn’t realize that the retreat would start a few days after the presidential inauguration, in late January. But somehow the timing of it all doesn’t feel accidental.
I still have a couple months until my departure. In the meantime, I will continue to practice my meditation routine, which has helped me navigate these days and to show up as the person I want to be.
To me, these meditation retreats are not a means of running away or escaping life. In fact, they help me face reality in ways that offer more clarity and compassion. It is a way of sharpening my focus and expanding my heart to embrace everyday life –– both its challenges and its beauty.
I believe words have power – after all I’m a writer. I don’t think one should be silent in the face of injustice and violence. But I do think silence can be a powerful tool to help us choose our words more wisely. In my own experience, meditation has often helped me refrain from unconscious reactions, and choose mindful actions.
For this full moon edition, I’m turning towards the artists who have used silence as a medium for transformation – offering you something to SEE, HEAR, SMELL, TASTE, TOUCH, BALANCE, and ENVISION.
I was also curious to know whether you – readers – would be interested in learning to meditate? In the past year, I’ve published recorded audio meditations for paid subscribers in the Present Sense editions. But I’ve been contemplating offering a free weekly Live meditation on Zoom for everyone. I would only do so if you’d find this helpful, so please let me know (honestly) in the poll below:
In Joy,
Sabrina
SEE
The Artist is Present, Marina Abramović (2009)
Watch the documentary on Hulu, Youtube, Apple TV, GooglePlay
I was lucky to still be living in NYC and to attend Marina Abramović’s retrospective The Artist is Present at MoMA in 2009. During the three month show, she sat daily in a silent performance.
Abramović would sit in a chair, and museum guests were able to sit across from her. During the entire museum hours, Abramović would not get up and never look away from the audience member seated across from her.
Over 1,400 people participated in the exhibit. I remember leaning against the wall, watching the participating members take their seat one after another. Some stayed for a mere few seconds, while others sat for long stretches of time. Some seemed to want to break her concentration, others to compete with her, but most people were seeking connection. Many of them cried. There was something disarming about being seen, without verbal commentary.
Abramović reflected on the MoMa experience:
“I understand that you can bring out the worst in people and the best. And I found out how I can turn that into love. My whole idea at MoMA was to give out unconditional love to every stranger, which I did.”
In her ‘Artist’s Life Manifesto’, she also wrote a collection of artist rules, which includes the following commentary on silence: “An artist should understand silence, create a space where they can allow silence to enter their work, silence is like an island in the midst of a turbulent ocean.”
HEAR
4'33 by John Cage
In 1952, pianist David Tudor stepped onto the platform of the Maverick Concert Hall, near Woodstock, New York to premiere the new set work by John Cage titled ‘4'33.’
Tudor sat down in front of his instrument and set a stopwatch, closed the lid of the piano and remained quiet for 33 seconds. Then he opened and re-shut the lid, and set his stopwatch for 2 minutes and 40 seconds, sometimes turning the score’s pages. He repeated the process for another minute and 20 seconds. And finally stood up, bowed to the audience and walked off stage.
This was how the avant-garde composer John Cage intended his piece. He scored it for any instrument or combination of instruments, but with the intention that the musicians withhold from playing their own instruments. The only instruction the score offered was that the silent piece be executed in three-movements with a total duration of 4 minutes and 33 seconds.
The first time it was performed, it caused an outrage, to which Cage responded that the audience “missed the point. There’s no such thing as silence. What they thought was silence, because they didn’t know how to listen, was full of accidental sounds.”
He cited the “wind stirring outside during the first movement. During the second, raindrops began patterning the roof, and during the third the people themselves made all kinds of interesting sounds as they talked or walked out.”
The idea for the piece originally started in 1948, the same year Cage started his study of Zen Buddhism and eastern philosophies that set him on a path ‘from making to accepting’, which led him to the possibilities of environmental and unintended sounds.
Later, in a video interview, Cage said: "The sound experience which I prefer to all others is the experience of silence."
SMELL
The Sound of Fragrance
More info online
In September 2024, Pitti Fragranze (the annual perfume trade show hosted in Florence, Italy) exhibited this year an olfactory installation titled ‘The Sound of Fragrance.’
The exhibit, curated by Paola Gariboldi, featured two paths for visitors to explore –– one dedicated to silence and the other to noise. For the occasion, two fragrances were crafted by master perfumers Sonia Constant and Alessandro Canali, with sound composed by Alessandro Meistro.
The scent journey was meant to be explored through sound, light, words and natural materials. It drew on the connection of language between sound/silence and smell, which both deal with notes, harmony, rhythm, composition.
TASTE
Silent dinner by artist Honi Ryan
More info online
The Silent Dinner party was conceived in 2006 by Australian artist Honi Ryan. The concept involved hosting a dinner party where guests, wait staff, and chefs come together for a meal in silence. The evening involves no speaking, writing, or reading (even the labels on wine bottles are covered). No digital devices are allowed during the two hours experience.
Since its conception, 61 silent dinner parties have been hosted in 20 cities across 12 countries. The aim is to give attendees 'relief from the noise -- the gadgets and the chit chat.'
Even though silent dinners have become increasingly popular, they aren’t a new practice. They’ve been the norm in monasteries for centuries. Zen Buddhist monks and nuns participate in a daily practice known as oryoki, which includes silent communal meals.
They are also present in other cultures such as in Finland, with the tradition of "Hiljainen Ateria" or "Quiet Meal," where silent dinners are organized to promote a sense of community and togetherness.
TOUCH
‘The Aesthetics of Silence’ essay by Susan Sontag
Available at indie bookstore and Bookshop
The Aesthetics of Silence is the first piece featured in Susan Sontag’s 1969 essay collection 1969 ‘Styles of Radical Will.’ The essay explores the role of silence as a form of spirituality in art.
Sontag writes: “The art of our time is noisy with appeals for silence. A coquettish, even cheerful nihilism. One recognizes the imperative of silence, but goes on speaking anyway. Discovering that one has nothing to say, one seeks a way to say that.”
According to Sontag, art can replace the role of religion and mysticism to satisfy our “craving for the cloud of unknowing beyond knowledge and for the silence beyond speech.” She highlights the importance of silence within this artistic spiritual pursuit, which becomes “a zone of meditation, preparation for spiritual ripening, an ordeal that ends in gaining the right to speak.”
BALANCE
‘Keeping Quiet’ a poem by Pablo Neruda
The following poem was written by Pablo Neruda in the 1950s and posthumously published in the 1974 bilingual collection ‘Extravagaria’, translated by Alastair Reid. I also recommend listening to a reading of it by Jewish-Buddhist teacher and author Sylvia Boorstein, in her conversation with Krista Tippett on the podcast OnBeing.
KEEPING QUIET
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.”
ENVISION
Nine Kinds of Silence by Paul Goodman (from ‘Speaking and Language’)
Paul Goodman, a novelist, poet, playwright, and psychotherapist, wrote ‘Speaking and Language,’ which was his last published work in 1972. In this masterpiece, Goodman enumerates the nine kinds of silence:
“Not speaking and speaking are both human ways of being in the world, and there are kinds and grades of each. There is the dumb silence of slumber or apathy; the sober silence that goes with a solemn animal face; the fertile silence of awareness, pasturing the soul, whence emerge new thoughts; the alive silence of alert perception, ready to say, ‘This… this…’; the musical silence that accompanies absorbed activity; the silence of listening to another speak, catching the drift and helping him be clear; the noisy silence of resentment and self-recrimination, loud and subvocal speech but sullen to say it; baffled silence; the silence of peaceful accord with other persons or communion with the cosmos.”
These are such wonderful examples of silence in art. Thank you for that Neruda poem! And now I want to host a silent dinner!!
Thank you for the reminder of the quiet strength of silence. The Neruda poem? Oooof. Good luck with your retreat.