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White Silence




It struck me this morning that silence is a place of singularity from where every sound, every word and all of music emanates. Very much like the colour white. Like light, it contains everything, all the colours we can see and all the colours we cannot. Its a lifetimes work to find the beautiful things coming off of it when of course white or silence is the absolute beauty. Maybe this is the reason that knowingly or unknowingly the churches and many religions have white as a significant colour as part of their culture. It is the beginning and the end. It is the clay that we carve our meanings from and we try to grasp our minds onto it. It is the place where form itself takes place, even deeper, matter itself takes place from white or nothingness. Nothingness is not empty, its so full of everything that its no particular thing.


As I sit here while the rain hits the roof, there is white noise. All frequencies come from white noise, it captures everything and its nothing. White is infinite possibility.


Every morning the day is white, atleast in large portions it isn’t coloured. Each doing is creation. From white we paint our day. Each day is a painting that we keep for a lifetime. So be loving to the space that it affords you in its time. Life is a sculpture in progress.


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