As if the quiet were a third party speaking to us

Perhaps nothing would be said at first, but eventually a sound, a poem, an artwork or an impression would spark an exchange, and there would be a clear flow of meditative, constructive thought. Periodic silences would follow, to which we both listened almost as if the quiet were a third party speaking to us. And in response to that stillness we would breathe deeply, come to a sort of relaxed attention, and in a humble, reverent manner lower our eyes, as though acknowledging the mystical presence of something greater.

~ from THE WAY OF THE DREAMCATCHER by S. T. Georgiou

When I drop down into myself in the quiet hours of the night

When I drop down into myself in the quiet hours of the night, it feels as though I have tapped into a deep river that runs strongly beneath the busyness of my daily life. When I allow myself to fully experience this deep river without, I connect not only with myself and what matters most to me but also with a powerful stream of silence, mystery, clarity, aliveness. I seem to tap into a universal source available to us all of deeply nourishing spiritual qualities that can provide a healing balm for our out-of-balance lives.


Silence alone

Silence alone reveals the deepest depths of Life.

~ Maurice Zundel

The silence of the storm dominated everything

The silence of the storm dominated everything. There are no words to describe a quiet so potent. I knew the snow was echoing a stillness that exists, hidden, in everything. I saw that this stillness generates all life. And sitting there in the snow, I wept at the profound sound and power of that silence.

I began to see the falling flakes as yellow bursts of energy, as light and as I looked at the light I saw that its total composition was Love. That night I suspended many cherished beliefs. The snow was alive.

~ from A NEW SET OF EYES by Paula D'Arcy

November 2007 (Vol. XX, No. 10)

"Is there enough Silence for the Word to be heard?"

Warmest greetings to one and all in this season of homecomings, thanks-giving, and gratitude. In the midst of our noisy pain-filled world, may we come home to the Silence. May we bless ourselves and the world as we stop talking and thinking for a while and allow the Silence to still us and, perhaps, to speak a word to our soul. Listening to the silence is an art form where the infinite harmony of the universe calms and nourishes body, mind, and soul. Be still. Listen. Love's silent heart-song will bring you Home to your Divine origin.

Silence removes chaos and confusion

"Know ye not that the Realm of Love is within you?" With this assurance, God is not far off. Silent prayer is the manner in which you talk to God, and in silence you hear the answer. Silence removes chaos and confusion. You hold the key which turns the lock in the door to the storehouse of God's infinite riches. May we use it.

~ George Graham Price

He drew us each into our own silence

Thich Nhat Hanh came on stage. In the space of ten minutes, this small Vietnamese man had drawn every single one of us into his silence. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that he drew us each into our own silence, into that peace which we each inherently possessed, but had not yet discovered or claimed. His ability to bring forth this state in all of us, merely by his presence in the room – this is divine power.

~ from EAT PRAY LOVE by Elizabeth Gilbert

Let silence Tell you the secrets of the world

Secretly we spoke,
that wise one and me.
I said, "Tell me the secrets of the world. "
He said, "Shh ... Let silence
Tell you the secrets of the world. "

~ Anonymous

Silence, a stilling of the roof brain chatter

Silence, a stilling of not only the voices outside but the inner voices, the roof brain chatter. Now, without the babble or words – inner and outer – I watch my mind, notice when a thought arises. I turn my attention inward, asking, "Who is thinking this thought?" As the mind turns to look, the thinker seems to disappear. But a focus comes from asking, a clearing a deepening. No "me," but a presence. Awareness.

~ from IN BUDDHA'S KITCHEN by Kimberly Snow
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