Is there such a thing? Without sound, are there not still vibrations? And breaths? And heartbeats? I am not certain there is silence to be heard and felt until our passing. And even then, who is to say there is true silence? This moment I am in now, could be defined by some as “silent.“ Just me and my dog on our morning sofa. Under a blanket. With my coffee, my notebook, and a pen. No music. No talking. No calls just yet. Early in the morning before the sun and most others are up. Even this quiet moment, however, is not truly silent. My beloved, four legged companion at my side, taking her post-breakfast nap, snores ever so softly. My upstairs tenant’s air conditioning unit just kicked on outside the window to a soft hum. The birds in the backyard are waking and fluttering, gathering and chatting. I hear and feel my own heartbeat – steady, rhythmic. And of course, there’s the faint scratch of this very pen across the paper. The heel of my palm sliding and rubbing, as I write this very sentence, across the notebook. Amidst all these sounds, though, is it not a form or level of silence? It is peaceful. It is void of noise. But is it silent? Is silence the lack of all sounds? Or is silence a feeling? A state of being. A state of mind. Or perhaps an act? Is it impossible to be silent, while I am living? As I finish my coffee and this daily time for quiet writing and reflection, I prepare for a brief meditation. Of course anyone who practices knows that meditation, even—a time devoted to intentional “silence“—can be anything but…