There is healing in the universe. There is a fabric that holds things together. When it is ready . . . in its own good time, shall it not bind together . . . all of us?
The world has become noise, silence its orphan child. The contemplative is a seed of silence planted amidst the jungle of noise, one whose harvest will come at a later time, perhaps a later age. The contemplative is a witness to silence, affirming that all things come out of silence and must return to silence to be healed and re-created.
