The Rule of Saint Benedict, that ancient guide to the monastic life, includes the admonition to ‘keep death before one’s eyes daily.’ As a young man, I found this advice a bit morbid. But the older I get, the more I understand how life-giving this practice can be. As I settle into silence, I draw closer to my own soul, touching a place within me that knows no fear of dying. And the little deaths I experience in silence deepen my appreciation for life- for the light suffusing the room as I write, for the breeze coming through the window. Silence brings not only little deaths but also little births- small awakenings to beauty, to vitality, to hope, to life…….Parker Palmer
there is a gathering place, an unnamed & untamed vastness where the soul renews itself….where space is generous & we feel within rather than within ourselves….this is vastness…this is rich wholeness….
We think we can find Silence by being quiet for a while, going inward, getting back in touch with ourselves, disengaging for a time from all of the pressures & tensions of life. This limited view is like getting to the door of a cathedral & thinking that is the whole of the experience. We do feel better under such circumstances because we are returned to ourselves, a necessary condition for the reception of this mystery. The fuller part of the experience, however, is what we feel around us & what touches us. When we find the entry into this large stillness, our lives are irrevocably changed because at that moment a monumental transition takes place: we find that the center of the universe shifts from our self-interests, even our spiritual self-interests, to the larger world, even to the cosmos, which we now begin to perceive as a spiritual reality…….Robert Sardello
true empathy & a deeper compassion arise here in our interior immensities……we stumble upon God & consciousness, like looking in the soft glow of a window from darkest night….where do you find your home?
When I detect a beauty in any of the recess of nautre, I am reminded, by the serene & retired spirit in which it requires to be contemplated, of the inexpressible privacy of a life- how silent & unambitious it is. The beauty there in mosses will have to be considered from the holiest, quietest nook. My truest, serenest moments are too still for emotion, they have woolen feet. In all our lives we live under the hill, & if we are not gone we live there still……Henry David Thoreau