Coming to the red-brick church, we slip inside to rest, reflect, and lay prayerful hands on our ailing bodies. The sanctuary is empty. We sidle into pews, remove our hats, gloves, coats. Silence. Yank off our shoes. Silence.
Unlike the silence of a library with its absence of noise, of outward distractions, its rules and kindly librarians who shhhh! at you, in the empty church the silence is different. It's all about presence. Presence you can't name for what it truly is, can't see, but you can feel, if you bring your heart across the threshold of the outside world. This church could as easily be a synagogue, mosque, or a temple. There you meet yourself, and that inexpressible mystery that lies beyond you. This presence requires reverence, not obedience. We kneel at the shrine with no donation to make but our prayers -- for things beyond words, prayers of the open heart. This silence is alive, making possible a change. Silence
~ from THE EMPTINESS OF OUR HANDS by Phyllis Cole Dei and James Murray
To pray is not to use special language; it is the sound of a cry or a laugh rising from ordinary days. Formal or official words can often be lifeless. To pray we need to return like children to an elemental language of soul, to something close to song, to chant, to playground singing.
~ from ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE by Marv and Nancy Hiles
Our planet is awash in the gentle light and shadow of an impenetrable Mystery; it is time, in spite of all our vaunted learning and might, to kneel at the rim of the abyss of our profound unknowing.
~ from ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE, by Marv and Nancy Hiles
A hidden river runs beneath the conscious layers of our lives. We become fatigued not from overwork, but from how much energy it takes to stage our lives in order to drown out the sounds of the river inside us.
~ from All the Days of My Life, by Marv and Nancy Hiles
There is no there anywhere, no destination, only ways through, passages, resting spots, doors that swing open to where a vision is hammered out, painted, written, sung or prayed behind the facade of the common.
~ from ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE by Marv and Nancy Hiles
One winter day something will shine out from an everyday object and the darkness will flood with light. Something we have seen a thousand times suddenly becomes the sentinel of another world.
~ from ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE by Marv and Nancy Hiles
We will never "solve" life, crack its ultimate code, or frame it with consistency. It is forever enigmatic and resists control by words or concepts. What is left to us is the rise and fall of a songline and the vision of a Great White Rose.
~ from ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE by Marv and Nancy Hiles
