All persons are both artist and mystic because all are called to be in touch with the true self, the deep experience that is theirs, and to utter images from that silent space.
Those who practice a watch of silence each day find their devotion takes them into ever-deepening realizations of God's immediate presence.
Silent watch periods are momentous opportunities that call for alert, expectant, and reverent participation. They are a foundation for prayer and an altar of awareness in the temple of reception.
They constitute the practice of our realization of God's immediate presence. The high moment of silence is that of consciously realizing God's envelopment.
~ from THIS DAY IS FORTIFIED by Flower A. Newhouse
I sat in the cafeteria alone wallowing in the quiet. I didn't realize how much I missed being silently alone. This place is full of noise. Hard noises and constant noises. Prison is full of people, angry people and people afraid, but always people crowded in rooms and herded like cattle from place to place. I sat down in the cafeteria and closed my eyes and felt God in the silence. I stayed there until they made me leave.
Let candles burn, both warm and bright, Which to our darkness Thou has brought, When we are wrapped in silence most profound, May we hear that song most fully raised From all the Unseen World that lies around And Thou art by all Thy children praised.
Night and morning, You are by us faithfully And surely at each newborn day.
Beside a river, in a spell Of utter silence, there am I. Alone I sit within a cell: The midnight hours are passing by ... I gaze into the distance, staying Focused on night's formlessness; The heart is begging to be praying -- In holy calm, how effortless! All problems seem so far from me; The world seem foreign and unreal. Up in the heavens, You I see; Within my heart, deep peace I feel.
With my rent miraculously taken care of, my life went deeply inward. I hardly spoke for over a year. Many visitors came, sat in silence, and left. Sometimes I spoke, but mostly I did not. The unwritten rule seemed to be that I would not speak out of discomfort or fear of silence. I would speak only when I felt that somehow a compassionate word might help someone I was with. Fasting, silence, and reading defined my life for several years... I didn't know if I was giving myself to foolishness or saintliness.
What are the fruits of silence? They are self-control, truth, courage or endurance, patience, dignity, and reverence. Silence is the cornerstone of character.
We are often bombarded by so many extraneous stimuli that it is difficult to pray, much less remain attentive in the silence. I can't help but wonder how many times God has called my name and has caught me in my distraction. Perhaps the sum and substance of our conversations with God are being able to talk together as we would with our closest friend. In any good conversation, there are moments of silence -- intimate silences filled with the comfort of the presence of the other.
"Is there enough Silence for the Word to be heard?"
Autumn blessings, dear friends! We are all united in the natural seasons of birth, life, and physical death. Learning to die daily to all that is notmovement toward wholeness and holiness while choosing each day to love more deeply and authentically helps enable us to be birthed with grace and serenity of soul into the Unseen Realm of Love, where a new and vibrant Life awaits us. Delving into the Silence regularly, we will discover new insights to lead us toward a peace-filled heart and gracious living.
The death of anyone close to us is always a form of salutation, a simultaneous good-bye to their physical presence and a deep hello to a more intimate imaginal relationship now beginning to form in their absence.
On this rainy and interior day, as I write letters about Mummy, I feel her presence so strongly. Just now, I can feel her sending her love to me. Suddenly, I see and feel her standing there, just a couple yards in front of me by the window, looking younger, and yet every age and no age. She's all in white, radiating light, smiling her smile, and love is pouring out of her eyes onto me, covering me. Ifeel my heart pounding, a ringing in my ears. I find it hard to breathe. It is overwhelming ... I know now she'll always be with me and, though it makes me sad to think I can't be with her in person anymore, I know I'll never not be with her again.
The heart of most spiritual practice is simply this -- remember:
Remember who you love. Remember what is sacred. Remember what is true. Remember that you will die, and that this day is a gift. Remembver how you wish to life.
Often we hear, "Is there a right time to die?" Of course there is: when one has been invited back home. When the Universal is waiting. The Light will invite you. The Doorway will open. You will know this with either your senses or your intuition or both. You will look outward ata the world and experience a sense of peace that only the opened Doorway and the Light can provide.
We die to many parts of ourselves, and the quality of each of these dying processes determiners the vitality of each rebith. It seem sto me that between heaven and earth there is just the slightest, most permeable membrane, and dthat it is possible to live in both realms simultaneously, at least some of the time. The conjunction of the two dimensions that we so loosely call death and birth is equally permeable. Each courageous end is also the finest and most pure beginning. To journey into that great unknown is the human-making pilgrimage, a gradual return to the image and likeness of God.
~ from "The Last Note" by Therese Schroeder Sheker
"Perfect love casts out fear." It is not be thinking ourselve sright that we cease to fear. It is simply by loving, and abandoning ourselves to the One whom we love without returning to self. That is what makes death sweet and precious. When we are dead to ourselves, the death of the body is only the consummation of the work of grace.
Modern life does not give us the experiences that might enlarge our vision. It hardly occurs to us that the living can have anything to say to the dying, or that the dying have anything to communicate to the living. We think that the dying are beyond our reach as they lie there, unable ot speak or respond in any way, but we are wrong. They can still hear what is said to them, even in what seems like deep unconsciousness; they can still be aware of touch... The dying need us to go as far as we can with them on the journey
O Love that will not let me go: I rest my weary soul in Thee; I give Thee back the life I owe, That in Thine ocean depths its flow May richer, fuller be.
O Light that followest all my way, I yield my flickering torch to Thee; My heart restores its borrowd ray, That in Thy sunshine's blaze its day May brighter, fairer be.
I welcomed each pregnancy with thanksgiving. To feel life within my womb, little hands and feet tapping from within, this is extraordinary. Then the births. I entered into each one of them, feeling the crescendo of pain until it became so strong I felt I could not survive. In a way, I saw it like death. Prayer came easy.
~ from CIRCLING TO THE CENTER by Susan M. Tiberghien
It is a central paradox of desert experience that only that which dies can live again. The fundamental rule of the divine life is this: the one who loses, wins. The carefree playfulness and freedom of the Holy One are mysteries entered only on the farside of darkness and death.
~ from THE SOLACE OF FIERCE LANDSCAPES by Belden C. Lane
