In the middle of the night a rush of wind through the trees awakens me, as the chimes — the heavy copper ones — clang vigorously. Then, just as suddenly, everything is quiet again. The silence is a palpable presence, especially after observed noise, absorbing all sound. Silence is not “non-being.” The silence is like Basho’s frog at the edge of the pond, “absorbing” a passing moth. The normal state is silence, subjective, discrete, ever-present. In meditation, silence sits like Basho’s frog ready to pounce on a thought. And depending on its mood, silence can quietly absorb the thought for us like a courtesy, or shout “Aha!” and jump into the pond with a “plop!”