Perhaps nothing would be said at first, but eventually a sound, a poem, an artwork or an impression would spark an exchange, and there would be a clear flow of meditative, constructive thought. Periodic silences would follow, to which we both listened almost as if the quiet were a third party speaking to us. And in response to that stillness we would breathe deeply, come to a sort of relaxed attention, and in a humble, reverent manner lower our eyes, as though acknowledging the mystical presence of something greater.
~ from THE WAY OF THE DREAMCATCHER by S. T. Georgiou
When I drop down into myself in the quiet hours of the night, it feels as though I have tapped into a deep river that runs strongly beneath the busyness of my daily life. When I allow myself to fully experience this deep river without, I connect not only with myself and what matters most to me but also with a powerful stream of silence, mystery, clarity, aliveness. I seem to tap into a universal source available to us all of deeply nourishing spiritual qualities that can provide a healing balm for our out-of-balance lives.
~ from FINDING THE DEEP RIVER WITHIN by Abby Seixas
The silence of the storm dominated everything. There are no words to describe a quiet so potent. I knew the snow was echoing a stillness that exists, hidden, in everything. I saw that this stillness generates all life. And sitting there in the snow, I wept at the profound sound and power of that silence.
I began to see the falling flakes as yellow bursts of energy, as light and as I looked at the light I saw that its total composition was Love. That night I suspended many cherished beliefs. The snow was alive.
"Is there enough Silence for the Word to be heard?"
In this season of celebration, may angelic blessings be yours, dear friends. Living with an awareness of their companioning presence, even if only with trust to begin with, we come to realize angelic joy is working with us, surprising us, and reminding us that we are loved beyond measure. Limit not the myriad ways your angelic companions may knock on the door of your heart. Spending time in the Silence draws them nigh. And you might ask, "When was the last time I thanked my angels?"
To study angels is to shed light on ourselves, especially those aspects of ourselves that have been put down in our secularized civilizations, our secularized educational systems, and even our secularized worship system. By secularization, I mean anything that sucks the awe out of things.
Life always begins again. The Angel of Earth embraces the seed And gives unto it Life. The kiss of the Angel of Water Awakens the seed. The warmth of the Angel of Sun Makes the seed grow. The little plant bends in the breeze– The Angel of Air makes it grow strong. The little plant is holy. It bathes in the Lifestream Of Eternal Order.
~ from Thanksgiving Psalms of the Dead Sea Scrolls
I was walking in the open air on a beautiful spring morning. The wheat was growing green, the birds were singing, the dew was sparkling, the smoke rising; a transfiguring light lay over everything; this was only a tiny fragment of Earth – and yet the idea seemed to me not only beautiful, but also so true and obvious that she was an Angel – an Angel so sumptuous, so fresh, so like a flower and at the same time so firm and so composed, who was moving through the sky.
