Super Silence in a Noisy World: Poolside Kirtan and the Holy Names

What does real quiet feel like anymore? Not the kind where the TV is off but your mind is still blasting a dozen tabs at once. Not the kind where you finally sit down, and then the neighbor’s drill starts up again. I mean the kind of quiet that actually settles your heart.

That’s what this little poolside moment was about, two travelers (two “honeybees,” as we like to say) sitting still for once, soaking in the rare gift of wind in the trees, birds in the background, and a soft thread of sacred sound. We called it super silence, and it might not mean what you think it means.

Poolside, finally still (and finally not so loud)

This episode of Juicy Magic on the go starts with a funny twist: we’re not on the go at all.

It’s Sunday. We’re posted up by the pool at an Airbnb, and for the first time in a while, the noise is not relentless. No roaring traffic, no construction soundtrack, no mechanical chaos chewing through the day.

And when that kind of hush shows up, you notice how thirsty you were for it.

There’s something so simple and so nourishing about hearing the wind moving through trees. Birds calling to each other like they’ve got nowhere else to be. It’s almost like your nervous system remembers what it used to be like.

Because let’s be honest, this planet has gotten loud. A lot of people live in cities now, and city life comes with a constant hum of engines, machines, and human pressure. Even when you find a “quiet” place, the world still has its way of revving in the background.

So the question becomes: where do you go for peace when peace is hard to locate on the map?

What “super silence” actually means (and what it doesn’t)

“Super silence” sounds like it should mean no sound at all. Like a perfect vacuum. Like disappearing into a blank meditation space where nothing touches you.

But that’s not how it was described here.

Super silence, in this conversation, means filling your mind and your speech with Krishna-katha, which is talk and remembrance connected to God: His names, forms, qualities, pastimes, associates, abodes, and the stories of His messengers and devotees.

Not silence as in emptiness, but silence as in the absence of useless noise.

A key point comes through, almost like a gentle correction: there’s no such thing as “nothing.” The living being is active by nature. If you try to force the mind into a void, it might feel like relief for a moment (a break from the negative), but it doesn’t automatically land you in the positive.

Super silence is the positive.

It’s not spacing out, it’s tuning in.

If you want a simple way to hold that idea, it’s this: transcendental sound can be a shelter. Not because you’re blocking the world out, but because you’re choosing what you let inside.

For a deeper sense of how bhakti tradition talks about meditation through sacred sound, this short piece from Vedabase on kirtan as “mantra-yoga” puts it plainly: Yoga as Meditation on Krsna.

“I thought super silence is when He reveals Himself”

There’s a sweet moment of back-and-forth here that feels like real life. One person says, basically, “I thought super silence is when He reveals Himself to you, when you’re silent within yourself.”

And the response is playful but firm: “No, there’s no silence.” (Cue laughter.)

It’s not a harsh disagreement, it’s more like two angles meeting.

Because in a way, both ideas touch the same mystery:

• On one side, inner quiet can make you receptive, like still water reflecting the sky.
• On the other side, “still” doesn’t mean blank; it can mean focused, devoted, turned toward God through sound and remembrance.

This is where a lot of people get tripped up with meditation. We’re taught to treat the mind like it needs to be erased. But the mind is a doer. It wants an object. It wants a direction. If you don’t give it something bright and steady, it’ll grab the nearest shiny thing, or the nearest worry.

So in this view, super silence is not “stop the mind,” it’s “give the mind something worth holding.”

A gentle invitation: chant with us, right where you are

Once the idea of super silence is set, the invitation comes fast and simple: let’s do a little kirtan together.

Not a performance. Not perfection. Just sound.

There’s even a real human note in the middle of it: someone’s still coughing a bit, might get interrupted. And somehow that makes it better, because it shows the whole point. You don’t have to be in ideal conditions. You don’t have to be “ready.” You can chant with a scratchy throat, in a wobbly chair, in a world that still honks in the background.

And then it begins, the Hare Krishna maha-mantra, repeated in call-and-response style, building that warm, familiar rhythm:

Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare
Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare

If you’re new to it, you don’t have to “believe” your way into it. You can just listen, or quietly repeat along. It’s sound you can rest your mind on.

There’s a line in the conversation that lands like a small truth: there are no hard and fast rules for chanting the holy names. It can happen anywhere, any time, with anyone.

Why sacred sound feels like peace (even when life is loud)

After the chanting, the talk circles back to why any of this matters. And it gets practical, in a heart-first way.

Chanting is described as:

• making your heart lighter
• making your head clearer
• giving you a lift that points you toward self-realization and God realization

It’s also framed as nonsectarian. Not “ours versus yours,” not a club with a gate. More like: if you want God, if you want truth, if you want love, then sacred sound is a way to turn toward that.

And there’s a vivid little metaphor that sticks: go to the source of nectar, the Supreme Person, and be like a honeybee.

A honeybee doesn’t argue with the flower. It doesn’t overthink the sweetness. It just goes straight to the nectar.

That image comes back again later too, because honeybees are kind of a mascot here. There’s even a mention of a group called the “Bitcoin honeybees,” tossed in casually, like a personal aside, and then the conversation floats right back into blessings and prayer.

Gratitude, “glories,” and an interfaith heart

After the kirtan, there’s a traditional stream of gratitude, giving “all glories” to guru, to the lineage (the rupa-rupanuga reference), and then a beautiful addition: all glories to the Lord Jesus Christ, with love and respect offered for the month of his appearance and the coming Christmas celebration.

This part matters because it shows the tone of the whole episode. It’s devotional, yes, and rooted in the Hare Krishna tradition, yes, but it’s also open-hearted.

There’s a clear statement: celebrating the birth of Lord Jesus Christ doesn’t make anyone less. If anything, it’s encouraged, with warmth.

That spirit of honoring sincere devotion, wherever it shows up, is part of what makes the whole “super silence” idea feel less like a label and more like an invitation.

If you want to read bhakti teachings in a more structured format, Vedabase is a widely used resource for Bhagavad-gita texts and commentaries, for example: Bhagavad-gita Chapter 5, Karma-yoga (Action in Kṛṣṇa Consciousness).

The travel route: from where we are now to Guatemala’s volcano coast

Even though this episode is “not on the go,” the pilgrimage is still rolling forward. The next stops get named like you’re tracing a line on a map with your finger:

• Valladolid (in Mexico)
• the coast, Isla Mujeres
• a flight to Guatemala City
• a quick bus to Antigua
• Lake Atitlán
• then down to the Pacific coast of Guatemala

And on that Pacific side, there’s a specific detail that feels almost tactile: black sand beaches, black because of volcanic activity.

This leads into a little talk about volcano chains through Central America, something like a “chain of fire,” with a playful correction toward “Ring of Fire,” and a mention that Japan has something similar too.

The point isn’t geology class, it’s mood. A land of volcanoes has a certain energy. Earth moving. Pressure. Heat under the surface. Passion, as it gets described.

And in a place like that, prayer and meditation feel like a natural match.

“Do it anywhere”: the simple, human case for chanting

The episode keeps coming back to this grounding thought: chanting isn’t fragile.

You don’t need incense. You don’t need perfect silence. You don’t need a retreat center. You can do it by a pool, on a bus, in a crowded neighborhood, in a new country, in a living room at midnight.

And the bigger project behind the travel is said plainly: to chant the holy names in every country, and to bring those “nicest locations” to the audience, not as a flex, but as a reminder.

Because the practice isn’t about the backdrop. The backdrop just helps you remember you’re allowed to breathe.

A closing blessing for Christmas (and every sincere holiday)

The ending is all warmth.

“Lots of love,” “peace be with you and upon you,” “Hare Krishna,” “hallelujah,” and a little laugh about “all that jazz.” It’s casual and reverent at the same time, like a friend hugging you goodbye while still holding prayer in their voice.

There’s a wish for a merry Christmas, and respect offered to any other holidays being celebrated too.

It’s a simple closing, but it fits the theme: real peace isn’t narrow. Real peace makes room.

Conclusion: finding super silence without running away

Noise is everywhere, and most of us can’t just escape it. But super silence, as it’s shared here, isn’t about running off to a cave. It’s about choosing what you feed your mind and heart, especially through sacred sound. A few minutes of chanting can lighten the heart, clear the head, and point you back toward the nectar you’ve been craving. If you try it today, even softly, even imperfectly, notice what changes when super silence becomes something you carry, not something you chase.

mariakerwin

As a former serial entrepreneur, she turned from a workaholic in the business world to freedom and creativity, living now as a writer, creator and world traveller. Since an early age Maria is close to death and what exists beyond, courageously exploring the dimensions of existence. A Kundalini Awakening guided her into the abyss of fully surrendering to the life force itself, crushing all known aspects of her old life. Finally, it led her to her purpose of bridging both worlds, connecting to what goes beyond the ordinary.

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