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On my ride back to the Ashram, after seeing Richard off at the airport, I decide that I’ve
been talking too much. To be honest, I’ve been talking too much my whole life, but I’ve really
been talking too much during my stay at the Ashram. I have another two months here, and I
don’t want to waste the greatest spiritual opportunity of my life by being all social and chatty
the whole time. It’s been amazing for me to discover that even here, even in a sacred environ-
ment of spiritual retreat on the other side of the world, I have managed to create a cock-
tail-party-like vibe around me. It’s not just Richard I’ve been talking to constantly—though we
did do the most gabbing—I’m always yakking with somebody. I’ve even found myself—in an
Ashram, mind you!—creating appointments to see acquaintances, having to say to some-
body, “I’m sorry, I can’t hang out with you at lunch today because I promised Sakshi I would
eat with her... maybe we could make a date for next Tuesday.”
This has been the story of my life. It’s how I am. But I’ve been thinking lately that this is
maybe a spiritual liability. Silence and solitude are universally recognized spiritual practices,
and there are good reasons for this. Learning how to discipline your speech is a way of pre-
venting your energies from spilling out of you through the rupture of your mouth, exhausting
you and filling the world with words, words, words instead of serenity, peace and bliss. Swam-
iji, my Guru’s master, was a stickler about silence in the Ashram, heavily enforcing it as a de-
votional practice. He called silence the only true religion. It’s ridiculous how much I’ve been
talking at this Ashram, the one place in the world where silence should—and can—reign.
So I’m not going to be the Ashram social bunny anymore, I’ve decided. No more scurry-
ing, gossiping, joking. No more spotlight-hogging or conversation-dominating. No more verbal
tap-dancing for pennies of affirmation. It’s time to change. Now that Richard is gone, I’m going
to make the remainder of my stay a completely quiet experience. This will be difficult, but not
impossible, because silence is universally respected at the Ashram. The whole community
will support it, recognizing your decision as a disciplined act of devotion. In the bookstore they
even sell little badges you can wear which read, “I am in Silence.”
I’m going to buy four of those little badges.