We thank Thee for all Thy golden silences --
Silence of friendship, telling more than words:
Silence of hearts, close-knitting heart to heart;
Silence of joys too wonderful for words;
Silence of sorrows, when Thou drawest near,
Silence of soul, wherein we come to Thee
And find ourselves in Thine immensity;
For that great Silence where Thou dwell'st alone --
Keeping watch above Thine own,
Deep unto deep, within us sound sweet chords
Of praise beyond the reach of human words;
In our souls' silence, feeling only Thee
We thank Thee, thank Thee, thank Thee.
I am discovering that Silence is not a concept, an idea, not the familiar "absence of sound." Instead, I "enter" silence as if I were to open a door, cross a threshold, and enter a room. Silence is substantive, tactile, like material. I feel its layers. It has depth like water, shallow or deep. I immerse myself in it. It is like water, supportive. I lay back in it. It is buoyant or it can draw me down. I think about whether or not it has a bottom, a ground. Perhaps its bottom turns into a top at some point, just as going east eventually leads west. I feel secure in the way it totally envelops. It is pleasurable yet mysterious.
Mark Van Doren wrote about "the [silent] web of the world, how thick and how thin, ancient and full of grace." What a lovely vocation for me to spend the rest of my years playing with the secrets of that shining place.
~ by Marv Hiles in "The Way Through” No. 31, Winter 2009
Silence touches us in so many ways: as something which offers sanctuary and tranquility, as something which brings us into touch with the inner depths which elude us in the hurly-burly of our everyday lives, as a source of joy, as an inspiration for art, literature or music, and because it awakens us to the present moment which can only be fully experienced with a mind that is free of preconceptions. These encounters can be the source of a wonderful clarity.
"Is there enough Silence for the Word to be heard?"
Bountiful blessings of the Silence, dear friends!
Taking time each day to allow the Silence to permeate your whole being is a gift to your Self that keeps on giving. For, in Silence we are never truly alone. Indeed, as we abide in the Silence, countless beings are drawn to the peace and well-being that radiates around us ... those from the unseen Realm of Love along with the angels and community of heaven. Since silence is the language of Love, we are practicing the Presence daily each time we surrender ourselves into holy Silence, be it for a few moments, minutes, or hours. As our souls yearn for the Beloved, in stillness and silence our souls are guided to the Divine Indweller. To maintain a daily discipline of silence is to nourish and nurture the Divine Child within us. ... May we each sink again and again into the Silence of Love and listen ... Silence speaks.
When your ears aren't filled with chatter and the cacophony of negativity, and your life is free of stress-generated mindless actions and the prolonged cleanup operations that result from the subsequent mess, then the still, small voice of spirit may be heard. The music of the universe becomes louder and louder in the silence generated by the absence of charged auto-chatter, and we are able to hear the whispered instructions of the soul, the rustle of angel wings, and the divine harmony of the spheres.'
An early century desert monk once shared an image:
"When the door of the steam bath is continually left open, the heat inside rapidly escapes through it; likewise the soul, in its desire to say many things, dissipates its remembrance of God through the door of speech, even though everything it says is good ..."
Timely silence, then, is precious, for it is nothing less than the mother of the wisest thoughts.
Silence purifies. Those who are dedicated to silence must persevere in our over-busy world zones of purified air. We must struggle against the asphyxiation, which threatens the cities of our consumer society. We live in a world mentally polluted by verbal intoxication. If dedication to silence did not exist, it would be necessary to invent it.
On the surface, silence was simple: we didn't speak unless it was necessary. But what was the point of silence? The point was, we learned, not mere silence, not silence to preserve some sort of order, but something much greater. In silence the idea was to recollect ourselves, to place ourselves more squarely in the presence of God than we would if people were talking to us all the time. We could pray, we could meditate, we could contemplate.
A poem is a passionate prayer of song with blessings from and for the faithful All, an innocent, sacramental creation remembering ancient tradition, a gift of praise at an invisible altar, and a lone priestly vision embraced by sacred silence, seeking forever the eternal unknown.
