Because in trying to articulate what, perhaps, joy is, it has occurred to me that among other things—the trees and the mushrooms have shown me this—joy is the mostly invisible, the underground union between us, you and me, which is, among other things, the great fact of our life and the lives of everyone and thing we love going away. If we sink a spoon into that fact, into the duff between us, we will find it teeming. It will look like all the books ever written. It will look like all the nerves in a body. We might call it sorrow, but we might call it a union, one that, once we notice it, once we bring it into the light, might become flower and food. Might be joy.
To really love is a great discipline, because we must love stably and consistently and regardless of whether or not our love is returned. In other words, we love despite our likes and dislikes, despite our selves or egos. We simply ALLOW love to be a transformative force in our lives. ALLOWING is the key. And this is not a passive but an active discipline... Genuine love asks for nothing in return, through it always works toward duplicating itself in others. Thus, the greatest reward for one who practices the discipline of love is that another being has been illumined by that love and is now carrying that gift to others.
Sacred silence engenders stillness. It IS stillness. And that stillness opens up the dimension of spiritual existence -- that luminous world that awaits our discovery as soon as we redirect our attention from external things to our own radiant depths... Silence is not merely a discipline; rather, it is primarily a state of being. It is in, through, and as silence that we discover our authentic identity, the Self.
