Entering into silence is like stepping into cool clear water. The dust and debris are quietly washed away, and we are purified of our triviality. This cleansing takes place whether we are conscious of it or not: the very choice of silence, of desiring to be still, washes away the day's grime.
Joy is a piercing desire, a mystical longing both painful and sweet: a kind of homesickness for a home we scarcely remember.