Note 5: A Melody Between Words

A quiet dialogue is taking place on the bank of a river. There is a speaker, yet there is no audience. And this dialogue is not meant to be heard by others. It is intimate; it is inward – there is a certain sweetness in it, like a child hiding in a corner and softly telling a story meant only for one person. No one else can truly understand it. Either the child understands, or the omnipresent—and that is enough.

This dialogue carries a gentle rhythm, almost like music. That music brings a sense of deeper meaning to everything around. It does not come from words alone, but from silence between the words. Its subtle beauty lies in the fact that this communication is not with another, but with oneself. And when this is understood, the melody naturally unfolds into a quiet sense of oneness with the self. The music is always playing; it is awareness that suddenly allows it to be heard.

There is no path that leads to him, not even a gate to enter. He is free, open, and unconfined. There are no walls around him, and there is no fixed direction from which one can approach this vastness. Any effort to move forward feels unnecessary, and even the comfort of stopping holds no meaning. One does not have to listen to him, and one does not have to say anything in return. One only has to be present. In that simple presence, the dialogue of being begins. That quiet, effortless being is bliss—this is samadhi.

Joy arises naturally, just as a wave rises when a stone presses into the river. The river does not try to create the sound; it happens by itself. In the same way, life cannot breathe from plants painted on paper. What is artificial remains artificial. Comfort may come from talking to others, from sharing words and thoughts, but peace does not arise there. Peace comes only from honest communication with oneself.

When the self listens to itself without effort, without escape, something subtle awakens. It is a silent spark within, gentle yet powerful, that stirs the entire range of bliss. Nothing needs to be forced, nothing needs to be achieved. The river flows, the dialogue continues, and in that quiet flow, one simply is there.