SILENCE was the first prayer I learned to trust when I began my visits to San Damiano. Only later did I begin to let the words in. The silence of the chapel at prayer was broken only by a habit of praise that I came to see was so primal it was not only human. It was — or it mimicked exactly — the essential utterance of existence. It rose from the raw passion which rules life, an urge which has no voice but craves articulation. This communal prayer voiced a harmony otherwise elusive in all of creation, yet thrumming in the monastic silence.
God's creation is to be experienced in the rhythm of our lives, which I see as: exoteric -- the mechanical, habitual body needs (human-made time); mesoteric -- that which we do with intention, awareness ... the pressure is gone, we slow down; and esoteric -- here we meet God, experience the gift and beauty of life with gratitude. Such moments are filled with awe and silence, without limit or measure ... all pressure, tension, worry, and unnessary suffering is gone. What a rich moment is God's Moment, what a rich time is God's time.
