Silence is the state of being

A strange thing about people, myself included - we need to be in a state of perpetual motion for us to validate the self-deluded destiny we believe is ours. We need to have a job with defined goals. We need people in our lives to be a witness to our doings. We need friends to complement our character. But in the end, when you come back home, you are alone.

By alone, I do not mean physically. You might be married or single. You might be staying with friends or family. The concept of alone is the reality of your existence. The way you perceive your individuality. By definition, you are an individual because you are unique. There is only one "you". And as a singularity, you will always be alone. No one knows you better than yourself. No one hates or loves you as much as yourself. In this impassable void of differences, are you comfortable? Is your sense of being so complete that in the silence of oblivion you find peace?

When I'm alone, I find I retrospect. My mind races through the images and sounds I saw that day. I challenge my choices and find my failings. But this is not a conscious process. This self-actualization happens in a moment of silence. With or without my express permission.

But I wonder, as a species of animal, is this need for self-validation an inherent instinct or is it the effect of continual conditioning by the viral waves of society? Is the need for purpose an unnatural evolution of the mind or is it a natural by-product of a thinking conscious? Do we need to make choices to be alive, or is it the facilitator of the illusion that we are more than stardust in an infinite universe?

When I think about the scale of things, I wonder what I affect by my actions. Does the rules of chaos theory extend to the outermost fringes of space and consciousness? Does the beating of the butterfly's wings create the apocryphal hurricane at the polar opposite?

Recently, I've found a great sense of bliss in being alone. I am by nature an extrovert, but there is a profound serenity in looking inwards. The questions posed by the external world are trivial compared to the unlocked gates of deeper reasoning. My recent circumstances are not by design, but due to most of my friends travelling for extended periods. However, this time has shown me something that I always suspected.

There are worlds inside you, but these are located in a universe of silence. When the individual part of you is fine with loss of identity, only then can these worlds be traversed. For in the universe of silence, sound is an abhorrent thing. The ego is a cancer, and the individual is unnatural. This world slips into the chimera that is the world we see and breathe. Yet, in the hustle and bustle for the next raise, the next promotion, we hardly find time to save ourselves from becoming a machinist of life.