Breathing is one internal function that the conscious mind can control with comparative ease. The effect of controlled breathing is almost like communication with all conscious parts of one's being saying to them, "Simmer down and listen; there is something beyond the turmoil". It is communication in action that often works when words merely go in one ear and out the other, not even changing the cognitive mind. In essence, the effect is to turn all the elements of our will toward stillness and waiting.
I am discovering that Silence is not a concept, an idea, not the familiar "absence of sound." Instead, I "enter" silence as if I were to open a door, cross a threshold, and enter a room. Silence is substantive, tactile, like material. I feel its layers. It has depth like water, shallow or deep. I immerse myself in it. It is like water, supportive. I lay back in it. It is buoyant or it can draw me down. I think about whether or not it has a bottom, a ground. Perhaps its bottom turns into a top at some point, just as going east eventually leads west. I feel secure in the way it totally envelops. It is pleasurable yet mysterious.
Mark Van Doren wrote about "the [silent] web of the world, how thick and how thin, ancient and full of grace." What a lovely vocation for me to spend the rest of my years playing with the secrets of that shining place.