Silence Is Golden — But Not Always

 Silence Is Golden — But Not Always

There are limits to what should be shared in the name of sharing. Exposing oneself for the sake of truth or healing is one thing, but exposing the flaws or private struggles of others in the process is not cool. At a deeper level of human experience, what we hear or observe may not be meant to be spoken publicly, even if we feel justified in doing so. Some truths, once revealed, can burden or even incriminate others.

Most of us walk through life with crutches and blinders to help us endure the long, tedious journey we call existence. These crutches come in many forms—obsession with the flesh, blind religiosity, drugs, distractions, or ego. The ego needs constant feeding to keep its illusion alive. However, the ego is never alone—it always brings with it its shadow: the darker self, often mistaken for the subconscious, but in reality, the source of suffering, ignorance, and blind desire. It is this lower self that clings, hoards, desires, and fears; that causes division and veils us from faith and awareness.

The ego manifests suffering when it mistakes the unreal for the real. To awaken is to see through this illusion, to realize the ego is a mere imitation of the true self, a product of duality, of right and wrong, good and bad, up and down. These mental polarities divide us from the real and keep us propped up by fragile identities.

Those who sincerely seek the Divine, the higher self, the God within—these individuals let go of the crutches. They walk alone, liberated from illusion, no longer bound by the inside-outside dichotomy. Through self-purification, sacrifice, and surrender, they stand at the threshold of union with the Divine—one step away from awakening their Buddha nature or merging with the Divine.

The death of the ego is the birth of the Buddha. As long as there is an "I," there is suffering. To step through the gateless gate, to arrive on the other shore, to merge with the Divine, one must dissolve the self completely. This is a high calling, not for the faint-hearted. It demands total commitment, pure intention, and unshakable resolve. It is a path walked over lifetimes, toward a wisdom beyond all dualities.

My recent trip to Kapas Island—though unplanned and brief—woke up parts of me I had not known before. Not all of what I found was positive, but much of it pointed me deeper into knowing myself. “Silence is golden” may be a cliché, but it rings true in the path toward self-realization. Silence exists between two breaths. That’s a good place to begin.

I went to Kapas in search of quiet, to still the chattering mind. I found it, and yet I didn’t. All that unfolded around me was the silence I had sought, if only I had been more perceptive. The island offered joy and sorrow, freedom and bondage. Everyone I met carried something inside—especially me. My mind created just the right turmoil to challenge my spiritual intentions. I could have stayed home bingeing on Netflix or brooding over the tragedies of Gaza. I could have drowned myself in Shunyamurti’s satsangs. But my nature refuses to remain stuck in one episode of life. I need variety to understand my dharma, to feel where I truly stand before I take my final bow.

Silence, non-attachment, and not identifying with the projections of the screen—that’s how I find clarity. I am the projector. I am the director. I am the scriptwriter. This is my karmic episode. Only in silence can I sense the Divine Presence that moves within me.

I spoke with both my elder sisters—one in KL, the other in Terengganu. Each is enduring her own suffering in old age. The one in KL struggles with a diabetic wound, the other with banking troubles and a disabled phone. Life is falling apart in many ways—for them, and for me. And still, silence is golden—when the heart is free.