Tonight I meditated in the garden of the house I'm staying in here in the French Pyrenees, and the Silence was so profound that even though I had intended to meditate only half an hour, I missed dinner. Three hours after sitting to meditate I finally had the thought to open my eyes, and found that it had grown dark around me. Cool.
And, after an experience like that, I didn't really feel like dinner, so I retired to my part of the house and listened to the only music I could think of that matched the silence of that meditation. That music is Keith Jarrett's "The Koln Concert," part IIb. I have always thought of it as Silence, flowing. If you have never seen Jarrett play solo, you have missed one of the great opportunities available to you on this planet. This very thin, very spiritual man walks out to the piano, sits down, without a clue as to what he is going to play that night, and just trusts Silence to guide him, and turn what he is feeling inside into music. Jarrett is "in the moment" personified, luring Silence into the world, in the form of music. And the amazing thing is that the Silence is still there, somehow *in* the music, as it flows from Jarrett's fingers, as if he were painting with light.
