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BY: Mirka Knaster
Maybe because I can talk up a storm, I love, even crave, silence. I feel safe in it. I know I won't blurt out something foolish or harmful, something I'll be sorry for. That's probably why if you ask spiritual teachers for advice on how to practice wise speech, they're likely to answer with one word: silence. Like the rain necessary for flowers to bloom, silence is essential for speaking with clarity.
A Hindu adage, echoed in other cultures, reflects this relationship: If what you have to say is truthful, kind, and useful, then say it; if not, silence is best. My earliest lesson in the value of silence and the painful consequences of unkind words occurred when I was in elementary school. I don't recall what my mother did or didn't do one morning, but whatever it was upset me enough that I hurled enormous anger at her: "I hate you. I wish you were dead." As an adult, I learned it was not uncommon for children to express such heinous thoughts, but at the time I suffered dearly for not holding them back. My father gave me such a whopping and I cried so hard that I couldn't go to class that day.
| It is in the womb of silence that we can grow ideas for the best course of action to take. | ||
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