One evening I laid my finger on my cheek and found to my surprise that it was wet. I wondered what those tears meant. What was I crying for? I wasn't consciously sad at all or consciously happy. I noticed at this moment that behind it all there was a joy, deeper than any personal joy. It was a joy in the face of the beauty of being. A joy at all the wonderful and lovable people I had already met in my life. But at the same moment, I experienced the exact opposite emotion. I hadn't known before that two such contrary feelings could coexist. Because the tears were at the same time tears of immense sadness, a sadness at what we're doing to the earth, a sadness at the people whom I have already hurt in my life, and a sadness too at my own emptiness and stupidity. I still don't know whether joy or pain had the upper hand -- both lay so close to one another.
The notion of silence appears to unsettle—or puzzle—no small number of people of all walks of life...Something as "unproductive" as silence is not often taken seriously. The evaluation of silence differs from culture to culture. In the West, if you notice that someone is silent for a prolonged period of time, the tendency might be to ask, "are you all right?" Or the silence might be interpreted as a sign of unbalanced introversion or isolation or passive aggression. In India, they would say of the silent one, Ah muni! (Ah, there is a holy soul!)
