Blessed are You, Who understood my tears,
You comfort me with love's embrace.
Though my eyes cannot see You,
I feel your gentle Presence,
like angel wings lifting my spirit.
You turn my mourning into joy,
I dance to a new song.
Blessed are You, O loving companion
of my heart.
Echoes
resounding from
a starry night so long
ago, carry angels song, still
singing.
The divine angelic hierarchy is more than a collection of celestial beings; they are both inner and outer states of consciousness, constantly presenting an opportunity to us for our divine awakening. Now, more than ever, is the awareness dawning within the hearts and minds of people everywhere that the Divine is a part of our spiritual ancestry. The souls of the earth are awakening from a long spirited sleep to a great mystery – that we are part and parcel of the great angels of light and love. This is the reality which is unfolding before us like a flower, right now in our world and in our lives.
Anna was too filled with joy and wonder to sleep. This was the night for which her soul had prepared her these many years. She heard the celestial music of the saints and the rustle of angel wings. Love had chosen her for this wondrous experience, so she was unafraid. The time was close now, for she smelled the fragrance of roses around her. "Oh, blessed angels, I love my God with all my being."
... walking and talking with an angel is really fundamentally no different from walking and talking with an ordinary human being. Both the angel and the person are expressions of the ultimate mystery; both are emanations of the Beloved ... There is only one sacredness and we all have it.
Every blade of grass has its Angel
that bends over it and whispers,
"Grow, grow."
Angels accompany us in all we do throughout our life . . Be mindful of their gifts.
No sooner had I fallen asleep than I saw standing a maiden dressed in a long white gown and modestly girded. On her head, in hooded fashion, was a white scarf which was so thin and transparent that through it I could see her face, which shone with heavenly beauty. She stood before me, tender, affectionate and loving, and although with downcast eyes, she would at times humbly and kindly look at me. With such a vision, I awoke.
My attraction to her was not sensuous, but somehow pure, devoted and unutterably comforting, since my soul sensed that this was not an earthly maiden, but some heavenly being, the very embodiment of purity and charity.
"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.
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.
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. "
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.
The most beautiful words, those that give the most genuine help, are often born in a silence filled with suffering. Silence is the glowing furnace of the word, the forge of true speech and sensitivity.
At first her refusal to speak very often upset me, but over time I've grown used to it and now love her the better for it. Ivy May's silence can be a great comfort. There is nothing the matter with her head – she reads and writes well enough for a girl of seven, and her numbers are good. I asked her once why she said so little, and the dear replied, "When I do speak, you listen." It is surprising that someone so young should have worked that out for herself. I could have done with the lesson – I do go on and on from nerves to fill the silence.
I weave a silence on to my lips
I weave a silence into my mind
I weave a silence within my heart
I close my ears to distractions
I close my eyes to attractions
I close my heart to temptations
Calm me as You stilled the storm
Still me, keep me from harm
Let all the tumult within me cease
Enfold me, Beloved, in your peace.
In a breath of silence
in a whisper,
God speaks to you humbly.
In the depths of silence, we are all one, and it is through interior stillness that knowledge of our oneness with the Creator reaches us. It has been truly said that the voice of silence carries infinitely farther than the loudest cry. Such a union as this can never be ours except in silence, and through stillness and deep prayer and meditation we can begin to comprehend the meaning of Infinity and of that one Mind in which we all live and move and have our being.
Only when we are silent can we begin to hear the voice that is truly our own, the still, small voice within. The source of this voice, which may be without sound, and yet is heard, is called by many different names: the inner guide, guardian angel, spirit guide, the collective unconscious, or just plain intuition. Actually, all of us hear the whisperings of this voice every single day of our lives, but many ignore it.
"We must do the works of Martha, but in the spirit of Mary. Both of us would agree to that. "
"What is the spirit of Mary?" I asked.
"Silence. Interior silence – and exterior silence, too. Your culture cannot hear the voice of God because its ears are too full of noise. For lack of silence you are going mad. God made you with two ears and only one tongue, so that you could listen twice as much as you speak. Then, when words come out of the silence, they will have power. "
In the silence I listen, I watch, I sense, I attend, I observe.
I require the silence. I search it out.
"Everything was opening its secrets to me in silence, without a word. Everything shone in my heart now instead of my head. The more I appreciated, the more I could see. It was a whole new way of learning, by listening to silence."
Listen to the silence as it echoes around you.
Ancient spirits dance to it.
There is one thing that we are certain about and that is that we are surrounded by a profound mystery. And in some strange way we are asked to participate in this mystery and to collaborate with it.
We have not been raised to cultivate a sense of Mystery. We may even see the unknown as an insult to our competence, a personal failing. Seen this way, the unknown becomes a challenge to action. But Mystery does not require action; Mystery requires our attention. Mystery requires that we listen and become open. When we meet with the unknown in this way, we can be touched by a wisdom that can transform our lives.
The quiet mind
Brings calmness,
Infinite, eternal grace.
Born inside silence
Is the will to be.
Chaos becoming order,
The holiness of life,
The unfolding of Great Mystery.
Mystery is that which shows itself and
at the same time withdraws.
Religion is a more or less organized way of remembering that every Mystery points to a high reality. A reality overarching and infusing this world with splendor. One pulsing through its veins. Unnoticed and unnamed. Of the Nameless One. A holiness so holy that it fills even our everyday illusions with spiritual meaning.
... when we do not speak, we may listen, hear, understand, even communicate in other ways. If language distorts, silence may open us to revelation. There are mysteries of life known and apprehended only when one refrains from speech, incommunicable mysteries that transcend the capacity of language.
Henry dropped to his knees, his bare toes finding the damp soil underneath the pine needles and leaves. He remained in that position for a quarter hour, unmoving, breathing slowly and deeply, watching the sky. Listening. The silent edge of dusk spread across the hillside. A luminous dark blue and purple void appeared to welcome the first star. And Henry, with loving respect for things he did not know, for what Cicero had called the unseen force that guides the body and guides the world, yielded to that unknown and unknowable force. He would rest in this pool of unknowing for as long a time as he was granted.
When you begin to actively explore the mystery of your own mystery,
God will solve the case.
O Dark Mystery
So bright I cannot see
Sometimes hushed
Sometimes clanging in my soul
I enter as You reveal
Darting from tree to tree
Hide and seek
The Mystery
Mystery: it is all around us, and we do not know it. But sometimes when we give it time and space, whether in deep peace or great anguish, it will come up behind us, or meet us face to face, or move within us, changing the way we see everything, and filling our hearts with joy and an upspringing of love that needs no direct object because everything is its object.
One cannot but be in awe when contemplating the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery each day. Never lose a holy curiosity.
To begin to enter into the profound silence that resides in the depths of our beings is to begin to enter the realm of the Godhead beyond God. Beyond speech, beyond apprehension, is a realm of generative actuality, the realm of essential being out of which the Word is eternally begotten. Our silence is bothand the clear road by which the Word proceeds most directly into our hearts.
The icon bears witness to the nearness yet otherness of the Eternal. It introduces us to a world of mystery, yet at the same time, we discover that this mystery is not far away, but is hidden within each one of us, closer to us than our own heart.
There is something in me that is not content to hang about directionless along the edge of the path ... A thirst in me so deep it will move aside the rocks, seeking moisture. There is a yearning that is intense in its desire to put God first.
It may take a lifetime, but I have no doubt this unnameable Mystery within, the seed that fell at the beginning of creation, will finally crowd out the thorns.
Yes, there is One who believes in me enough to continue singing up the country of my heart.
Work for the sake of accomplishing the task at hand and understanding; in the beginning, the work is more important than the worker. When you finish your task, look at what you have achieved. If you have worked with your heart, you will be pleased with the results. These results will make you want to achieve even more in your next endeavor. The results are the true rewards of our labors.
Works of love are the way to peace. And where does this love begin? Right in our hearts. We must know that we have been created for greater things, not just to be a number in the world, not just to go for diplomas and degrees, this work and that work. We have been created in order to love and to be loved.
No ray of sunshine is ever lost,
but the green which it awakens
into existence
needs time to sprout,
and it is not always granted
for the sower to see the harvest.
.
All work that is worth anything is done
in faith.
When yonever again will your work be a burdenu can find something in your work that is in the nature of a service to be performed, . When you have found something into which you can put your heart and soul and you can pour out some measure of service, even if in the beginning it is the most menial of labors, it will lead you to the joy of expressing yourself. If your consciousness is filled with service and cooperation, then your activity regardless of its nature will express the service and cooperation in your consciousness, and it will be a steadily expanding and unfolding activity.
Work is work and there's harmony in it when the dignity it deserves is allowed to thrive naturally. The greatest teaching manual labor provides a contemplative practice is that there is no separation between work and prayer: work is prayer and prayer is work.
To view work as a pilgrimage is to put our heart's desires to hazard, because merely by setting out, we have told ourselves that there is something bigger and better, or even smaller and better – above all something more life giving – that awaits us in our work, and we are going to seek it. We look around to see what we have for the journey and find at bottom that we possess only intuitions and imagination.
As the day brings us the petty round of irritating duties, help us perform them with laughter and a kind face; give us to go blithely on our business.
Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers equal to your tasks.