Beyond sound. Beyond vibration. It isn't so much that words can't be written about it; it's just that nothing can convey it. It's the background to all noise, all the significance, all the meaningless babble.  How simple, how sweetly refreshing that the essence of silence is the center of everything. All the sensations, all the perceptions, all the concepts, actions and reactions, all the feelings, all the space, all the time, all the consciousness. Yet it isn't some isolated something in the middle of nothing; it's nothing in the middle/beginning/end of nothing.

Funny how so many things could be written, said, communicated about these canyons, but silence is the only true expression of them.  Why did they come here; why do they come even now?  What is it that we're all still seeking?

Silence.  Nothing but the silence.  Recognizing it we know that somehow something in us transcends space/time, energy and causality, even in the mere recognition.  That's why they painted, chiseled and built in the most preposterous of places, the most inhospitable and demanding places.  They carved and painted their silent attention into everything they created. Perhaps we too have to actively allow our own silence to awaken us.  So vastly deep, so immediate to our inmost closeness.  So close that I can't even know myself.  Only the silence; only the stillness.  Nothing - neither including nor excluding everything.  No conditions, no limits.