Powerless Bliss
This past winter, my husband and I traveled to the Dominican Republic, our second visit in as many years. We stayed in a house near the beach - part of the Samana Penisula - which supports only modest tourism. From what I understand, a very different experience from Punta Cana, though I've never been there.
During our first visit, we experienced an occasional power loss at the house. The internet, fans, and refrigerator all stopped working, but it only happened a couple of times for a few of hours. We survived, free of food poisoning, and learned our lesson to complete any critical internet work before we left the United States.
In February 2014, though, the DR experienced power plant troubles impacting about seven of fourteen days with rolling blackouts in the region. Although we did have some concerns about the food in the fridge, and hoped that the ceiling fan would be working by the time we climbed into bed (to keep the bugs away), I learned to enjoy the quiet.
In the hours of powerlessness, especially those first few moments, when every mechanical item shut down, the silence felt both noticeable and blissful. Have you ever truly brought attention to how many things make noise around you? My ears adjusted to the loss of: the whirl of the fans, the low rumble of the refrigerator, the hum of the modem, the gurgle of the pool filter, the buzz of our lap tops, and the sporadic back drop of the water pump, bringing fresh water to the house. Even the digital clocks have a faint sound, that becomes incredibly loud through its absence.
These power-free moments became part of a meditative practice for me. On each occasion, I allowed the silence to envelope me, cradling my own heart beat and breath. I found myself attuning to the environmental noises - barely noticeable when the electricity flowed through the wires.
The distant pulse of the ocean held backdrop space. Closer to home, I heard the fluttering of wings and whooshes of air, as medium to large birds swooped through the sky of my hilltop. Hummingbirds beat their wings in allegro time, while a neighboring cat released an occasional, pitiful meow. As each day was different, the sound of rushing wind or pelting rain, contributed to the symphony when the sun stole a nap. Lest you believe we visited the hinterlands, I'll share that the loudest of noises still came from man-made objects. The bellowing roar of mini-bikes shouted exclamations of on-going human existence, as did the scrape of rakes or growl of gas powered lawnmowers.
Why, you may ask, does this warrant sharing? Because it's extraordinary to tune into the world around you differently. Sometimes, it requires a deliberate act - changing scenery for a couple of weeks, a power outage, or simply choosing to shut it all down and give yourself space to revel in the present moment. I'll admit, it would not have occurred to me to turn off the power to my own home (although I understand there is a movement to do this at specified times), and yet, my appreciation for the bliss of being powerless has me reconsidering my position.
What is true, though, is that drastic action, while more dramatic and obvious, is not required. Any one of the simple meditations and mindfulness exercises we offer in our library are designed to bring you to presence in THIS moment, should you choose. Your personal experience may yield a different emotional value with each attunement - allow that. If the silence creates space for sadness, anger, joy, love...whatever may be lurking beneath the din...let yourself welcome this part of you. Because, you deserve to be in touch with all parts of you. In my case, I found bliss.
With love and the bliss of silence,
Joanne Lutz