How many minutes, months, or years must we go before succumbing to silence? Is silence really a bear lurking in the shrub? Is it an arrow pointing to the oceanic silence to come? As I step into my own revisitation of silence, I anticipate not a void but the great inner cataclysms that I otherwise wash over with noise and constant stimulation. Will I once again feel like my life has been gliding along a dreamscape, an exile since my last experiment in solitude? Will I recognize myself within the exposure of mind, of fear? How will that pervasive quality of aloneness feel, now that I am more at home in my body than before and also more open to the emotional spectrum?

I remember remembering. Once upon a time, I discovered a great fire within, a temple illumined by stars, filled with great dancing and song.