Something I really love about the Russian language is that states of silence and color can be verbs.
For instance, if something is white, you could express it as a static description — it is white — or, more poetically, as an action: it whites.
It’s the same with silence. Someone can be silent, or, on the other hand, someone can silence — not simply as in “The crowd silenced at once,” but as in “The two of them silenced for the whole evening.” It is an active state.
How lovely it is to see it this way: silence not as passivity, but as activity. Not as indifference and absence, but as intention and presence. Like a pool of water that is not standing but whirling.
Silence lives and breathes — when we allow it, when we choose it. Silence, when actively cultivated, pours life into the soul with the same vibrancy that a splash of color enlivens a monochrome photo.
Where in your life can you allow more living silence?