My Silence Has A Name...It's Bertha.
There's a rumor going around that silence is deafening. Mine is filled with nonsense rambling.
My silence has name: it's Bertha.
Of all her trademark habits, Bertha loves jumping to conclusions, makes quick judgements and knows no patience. Yea...she really is that much fun to be around.
Naturally, during my stay at a 10-day silent meditation retreat, Bertha ran wild with thoughts:
Ugh why are we even here?
Everyone thinks you smell bad. I can tell. They're all staring at you.
Is that girl really coughing through morning mediation again? How rude.
Vegan food. Vegan food?! Seriously, can a girl get a donut around here?
For the first few days, she was relentless. But as fate would have it, Bertha's no spring chicken. With no distractions—working dusk to dawn— the mad woman eventually tired herself out. In which case, her "silence replacement" took over until, I can only assume, Bertha regained her strength.
Okay, now Bertie? Bertie is a damn delight. She can't help herself. Seriously, she belongs in a Tide commercial. The woman handles her own shit, leaves everyone to their own devices and actually makes heartwarming smiles her freaking job.
And yet, she felt like an estranged second cousin more than anything else.
With nothing but time, I began using breaks and morning walks to reprogram my silence company. I'd wake up putting in a request for Bertie. When Bertha would inevitably surface, I'd politely ask her to take the day off.
And slowly but surely, the balance began to shift. The days got shorter. And amongst other things, not communicating with the outside world became noticeably more tolerable with Bertie as my guide.
Amazing things happen when hand the reigns over to our better halves. It's a simple fact to accept but damn hard to put into practice. Those 10 days gave me one hell of an advance but I'm not an expert by any means.
For now, I'm simply doing my best to keep one hand in Bertie's corner and the other on Bertha's snooze button.