An inner city priest went to the home of a poor old lady in the parish. She was dying. When the priest came to her side, she said, "Don't talk and don't run." She seemed to want to die fully appreciative of her life in God, which was too deep for any consoling words at that point. And she wanted to die appreciative of the human community that incarnates God's presence on this plane of existence, which was too deep for words but not for silent, prayerful human presence. That is contemplative dying.
...We can approach all of the myriad little ego deaths, all the ways we don't get what we want (as opposed to what we need) in our lives, in the same way as that woman faced physical death... We need to leave room for the silence that can free the wonder, as well as for words.
O come, let us sing to the Most High, Creator of the Cosmos;
let us make a joyful song to the beloved!
Let us come to the Radiant One with thanksgiving,
with gratitude let us offer our psalms of praise!
For the Beloved is Infinite, the Breathing life of all.
What do I have to be thankful for?
I asked myself today.
So I decided to count my joys
As I wandered along my way;
The warmth of a home, the love of friend,
The beautiful sound of the rain;
The still of the night, the touch of a child,
A day that is free from pain.
The light of the sun, the cool of a breeze,
The sound of a waterfall;
But the love of God and the peace it brings
Is the greatest blessing of all!
One thing have I asked of love,
that I shall ever seek:
That I might dwell in the
heart of love
all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of my beloved,
and to know love's plan.