Imagine yourself standing in a circular room. It is dark, with only a single candle burning in the centre to illuminate your surroundings. There is no sound. When you close your eyes and breathe, all you can hear is the air moving in and out of your body. It is peaceful. There are no thoughts, no worries; all you can feel is a deep silence and stillness within you. You are perfectly content in this room, with no need to see what else is here. There is nothing, nothing but a peaceful being, knowing you are held in the silence.
When you open your eyes, you notice many doors around the outer edges of the circular room. Dozens of identical doors surround you, and you recall stepping through one of these doors to reach this room, but you can’t remember which one. You also know it doesn’t matter. You sit now close to the candle in the centre of the room on a cushion placed there just for you. You sit, breathe, and rest.
You notice that beams of light are now peeking under each door, stretching across the floor until they reach your feet. You remember following one of these beams of light, drawn by its warmth and magnetic pull. You followed this beam until you reached the door, took a breath, and courageously entered the room. This is how you came to know this place—the seeker who has found what she has sought. This candle was lit just for you, and now you sit in its light, becoming one with it. This is where you will return, again and again, to find your light in the dark.
Silence as a Gateway
Have you ever noticed that at the heart of many world religions lies a practice that invites us into a state of silence?
In Hinduism, there are practices like Japa and Dhyana. In Buddhism, we find the practices of Shamatha and Vipassana. In Islam, there is Dhikr. Indigenous traditions feature Vision Quests, while Taoism introduces us to Zuòwàng. In Judaism, we have Hitbodedut, and in Christianity, there are Contemplative Prayer and Centering Prayer.
Despite their differences, all these traditions lead to the same destination: silence, stillness, letting go, attuning to a greater reality, returning to our essence, and embracing a formless presence.
In the visualization above, multiple doors lead to a single room. The various doors represent the different traditions, while the room symbolizes access to our authentic selves and our essence.
Silence serves as a gateway to understanding ourselves. This idea is supported by spiritual traditions worldwide. When we fill our lives with doing, achieving, striving, and worrying, we lose touch with our true selves. We become distracted by external forces that do not originate within us, leading us to feel lost and question our paths: Whose journey am I following? Whose voice am I listening to? Where and who am I?
It's no wonder we often feel lost and lonely in a society that inundates us with distractions. We do not learn how to reconnect with ourselves in schools or workplaces; in fact, the opposite often occurs. We are trained to perform for everyone else—for the sake of the team, the company, the community, the family, and the world. Yet, as we become increasingly disconnected from ourselves, feelings of scarcity intensify.
As humans, we yearn for a return to something greater, something more authentic, something more whole. Whether referred to as God, Spirit, the Tao, Brahman, Allah, or simply Presence, each tradition points toward the same mystery: Beneath all our striving and separation lies a sacred stillness that supports us.
Rumi says, "Silence is the language of God; all else is poor translation." Saint John of the Cross states, "Silence is God’s first language." The Buddha invites us to "be still and know." Lao Tzu writes, "The Tao is like a well: used but never used up. It is the eternal void, filled with infinite possibilities."
Throughout the centuries, our spiritual teachers have reiterated this message, yet we often forget it. Instead, we often choose distractions, stimulation, and busy lives, which can lead to burnout and disconnection. When will we heed the call to return to silence?
An Invitation to Return to Ourselves
Modern contemplative teachers, such as Cynthia Bourgeault, offer frameworks that echo this truth of many paths. In her book Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening, she writes:
“If you wish to experience what lies beneath, spiritual tradition teaches, the first step is simply to pull the plug on that constant self-reflexive activity of the mind. And that's what intentional silence, or meditation, is set up to do. It's like putting a stick in the spoke of thinking, so that the whole closed circuit gets derailed and the more subtle awareness at the depths of your being can begin to make its presence known.”
Bourgeault goes on to create distinctions between concentrative, awareness, and surrender-based practices, which are especially helpful for understanding the inner mechanics of meditation and prayer across different traditions.
For example, the essence of Concentrative Practices lies in focusing the mind on a single object (such as the breath, a mantra, a sacred word, or a candle flame) to gather the mind’s energy and cultivate stillness. In contrast, the essence of Awareness Practices involves observing thoughts, sensations, and emotions without attachment, aiming to deepen presence and self-awareness while recognizing patterns. The essence of Surrender-Based Practices is to relinquish all striving and consent to a deeper Presence, aiming to unite with the Divine and rest in Being or God beyond concepts.
These practices provide different doors for us to explore until we find the one that suits us best. For me, Centering Prayer has allowed me to enter the deep silence I’ve longed for. While my journey is still fresh, I can sense a level of union and connection that other practices haven't necessarily provided.
What intentional silence or meditation practices have you tried? Which ones work best for you in quieting your mind and leading you to a place of stillness or connection with the Divine?
Enter the Room
Imagine yourself once again standing in a dark room illuminated only by a single candle in the centre. There is complete silence surrounding you. When you close your eyes and breathe, all you can hear is the sound of air moving in and out of your body. It feels peaceful. There are no thoughts, no worries—just a deep sense of silence and stillness within you. You feel a connection to something deeper in this space, and you know the quiet embraces you.
You remember following a beam of light until you reached the door of this room. The warm, magnetic pull of the light reassured you that you were on the right path.
What’s remarkable is that every tradition offers a door and invites us, again and again, to return to the same stillness, no matter which one we choose.
What “door” will you explore? What does your “room” feel like? What path connects you back to your essence?
Whatever door you choose, know that the light and the silence are already yours.
With warmth & gratitude,
Brooke.
Excellent.I felt very somber and pain free inspite my back injury resulting in ability to walk because of severe spasms of back muscles.
Thank u once again
I just finished reading your latest post, and I wanted to say thank you for yet another thoughtful reminder of the beauty and universality of silence. Your reflections got me thinking about my own journey with meditation—I’ve tried mantras, guided meditations, breathwork, you name it. But there’s something about just leaning into silence that never fails to surprise me. Some days it’s a symphony of thoughts and a little grin; other days, I get so lost in the quiet that I lose all track of time. It’s funny how we often approach silence with so much intention, only to find it has a delightful sense of humor about our plans. Anyway, thank you for the gentle nudge and for sharing your insights. It’s always a joy to read your work!