When from our better selves we have too long Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop, Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, How gracious, how benign, is Solitude.
As humans we respond to symbols. We express divine Beauty and insight in our art. If there is a preponderance of art depicting angels with wings, obviously this symbolizes something real within the collective consciousness. Angels appear to humans according to human capacity to accept and understand the appearance. The angels inspire, and that is what is left in our heart after an angel experience.
Amy tightened an arm around his neck and announced in a loud voice, "I was with them big angels, and they runned in front of me and left me and I gotted lost!"
"So it occurs to me," the preacher said, "that many of us may be leaving small angels behind. Are we neglecting to help those who would benefit from our love? ... Just a thought," he said, smiling.
Blessed are You, Who understood my tears, You comfort me with love's embrace. Though my eyes cannot see You, I feel your gentle Presence, like angel wings lifting my spirit.
You turn my mourning into joy, I dance to a new song. Blessed are You, O loving companion of my heart.
The divine angelic hierarchy is more than a collection of celestial beings; they are both inner and outer states of consciousness, constantly presenting an opportunity to us for our divine awakening. Now, more than ever, is the awareness dawning within the hearts and minds of people everywhere that the Divine is a part of our spiritual ancestry. The souls of the earth are awakening from a long spirited sleep to a great mystery – that we are part and parcel of the great angels of light and love. This is the reality which is unfolding before us like a flower, right now in our world and in our lives.
Anna was too filled with joy and wonder to sleep. This was the night for which her soul had prepared her these many years. She heard the celestial music of the saints and the rustle of angel wings. Love had chosen her for this wondrous experience, so she was unafraid. The time was close now, for she smelled the fragrance of roses around her. "Oh, blessed angels, I love my God with all my being."
~ from ANNA: WOMAN OF MIRACLES by C. Haenni and V. Vick
... walking and talking with an angel is really fundamentally no different from walking and talking with an ordinary human being. Both the angel and the person are expressions of the ultimate mystery; both are emanations of the Beloved ... There is only one sacredness and we all have it.
No sooner had I fallen asleep than I saw standing a maiden dressed in a long white gown and modestly girded. On her head, in hooded fashion, was a white scarf which was so thin and transparent that through it I could see her face, which shone with heavenly beauty. She stood before me, tender, affectionate and loving, and although with downcast eyes, she would at times humbly and kindly look at me. With such a vision, I awoke.
My attraction to her was not sensuous, but somehow pure, devoted and unutterably comforting, since my soul sensed that this was not an earthly maiden, but some heavenly being, the very embodiment of purity and charity.
"Is there enough Silence for the Word to be heard?"
Warmest greetings to one and all in this season of homecomings, thanks-giving, and gratitude. In the midst of our noisy pain-filled world, may we come home to the Silence. May we bless ourselves and the world as we stop talking and thinking for a while and allow the Silence to still us and, perhaps, to speak a word to our soul. Listening to the silence is an art form where the infinite harmony of the universe calms and nourishes body, mind, and soul. Be still. Listen. Love's silent heart-song will bring you Home to your Divine origin.
"Know ye not that the Realm of Love is within you?" With this assurance, God is not far off. Silent prayer is the manner in which you talk to God, and in silence you hear the answer. Silence removes chaos and confusion. You hold the key which turns the lock in the door to the storehouse of God's infinite riches. May we use it.
Thich Nhat Hanh came on stage. In the space of ten minutes, this small Vietnamese man had drawn every single one of us into his silence. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that he drew us each into our own silence, into that peace which we each inherently possessed, but had not yet discovered or claimed. His ability to bring forth this state in all of us, merely by his presence in the room – this is divine power.
Secretly we spoke, that wise one and me. I said, "Tell me the secrets of the world. " He said, "Shh ... Let silence Tell you the secrets of the world. "
Silence, a stilling of not only the voices outside but the inner voices, the roof brain chatter. Now, without the babble or words – inner and outer – I watch my mind, notice when a thought arises. I turn my attention inward, asking, "Who is thinking this thought?" As the mind turns to look, the thinker seems to disappear. But a focus comes from asking, a clearing a deepening. No "me," but a presence. Awareness.
The most beautiful words, those that give the most genuine help, are often born in a silence filled with suffering. Silence is the glowing furnace of the word, the forge of true speech and sensitivity.
At first her refusal to speak very often upset me, but over time I've grown used to it and now love her the better for it. Ivy May's silence can be a great comfort. There is nothing the matter with her head – she reads and writes well enough for a girl of seven, and her numbers are good. I asked her once why she said so little, and the dear replied, "When I do speak, you listen." It is surprising that someone so young should have worked that out for herself. I could have done with the lesson – I do go on and on from nerves to fill the silence.
I weave a silence on to my lips I weave a silence into my mind I weave a silence within my heart I close my ears to distractions I close my eyes to attractions I close my heart to temptations
Calm me as You stilled the storm Still me, keep me from harm Let all the tumult within me cease Enfold me, Beloved, in your peace.
~ from THE EDGE OF GLORY by David Adam, thanks to Kimberly Wuest
In the depths of silence, we are all one, and it is through interior stillness that knowledge of our oneness with the Creator reaches us. It has been truly said that the voice of silence carries infinitely farther than the loudest cry. Such a union as this can never be ours except in silence, and through stillness and deep prayer and meditation we can begin to comprehend the meaning of Infinity and of that one Mind in which we all live and move and have our being.
~ from the Wellesley Tudor Pole, thanks to Edith Spenser
Only when we are silent can we begin to hear the voice that is truly our own, the still, small voice within. The source of this voice, which may be without sound, and yet is heard, is called by many different names: the inner guide, guardian angel, spirit guide, the collective unconscious, or just plain intuition. Actually, all of us hear the whisperings of this voice every single day of our lives, but many ignore it.
