I just got back from a silent retreat. While it was held at a Zen meditation center, the object wasn’t to learn a meditation technique. The object was, simply, to enjoy silence.  To notice and pay attention to the silence that is inside us and we are inside of, rather than focusing on the noise, on our incessant thinking, that normally rides on top of the silence.

The ground rules were basic: no electronics, no books, no talking. Three days. Nothing much coming in.  Nothing much going out.

After only a few hours, I realized what a relief it was to not have the burden of having to talk. I didn’t have to make a decision or find an answer.  I noticed the gaps in my thinking increased as the hours wore on.  Smaller , more subtle things were coming to life,  things I often don’t notice when my mind is busily pursuing multiple paths of distraction – the feel of mountain air on my face or the almost imperceptible sound of more than a hundred people breathing.

Mind-made distractions still abounded, but there was a different quality to them.  They didn’t feel so confining.  Even as the worry arose that I may be missing something very important if I didn’t check my Blackberry sometime soon, I was smiling.  I found myself doing that a lot at the retreat: smiling for no reason.

Silence feels essential for our work in world. We are often afraid of stillness. Of time alone.  I am not sure if we think we will be less productive. Or if we fear everything will fall apart in our absence.  But, of course, the values of solitude, nature, and silence are important qualities of leadership. In fact, I would argue, every enduring leader in the course of human history embodied these values because they are the very essence of who we are.

Solitude, nature, silence: our true nature. It’s our ready source of infinite power, our infallible compass, available at any time. The trick is to hit the off button to turn on the real power.