I am living the quietest days of my life, both externally and internally. I am bound to no one in my immediate surrounding, no social obligations to fulfil, no acquaintances to bother me on the phone. My friends, too, seem to drift away, as my journey has gone into a direction that is so far from them, so strange and so uniquely mine. Only a very few stay, as they always have. Finally, my heart is tranquil, no longer occupied by an Other, thus free from expectations and frustrations. Sometimes I feel like a ghost as if I do not exist anymore, but most of the time I feel blessed to have this interval of solitude entirely for myself, in which time ceases to move forwards.
I have taken up the habit of doing my things in public, and have learnt to carve out my own space in the crowd. I do not have to force myself to concentrate, nor do I shut the world down. At some point, silence just naturally takes over, a silence that I can hear, that my ears can distinguish from all the other noises, that in turn, renders these noises silent. It is not a mental process, as it does not emanate from within my mind. It is part of me as much as it is part of the world. The boundaries that delineate my being from the outer world are blurred as I blend into it. Its noises are appropriated as mine, while my silence spreads into it. There is no inside versus outside, subject versus object. Strangely how I am fully in the world, when I seem to be the most disconnected from it.