I am to LISTEN. I am finding it a hard discipline: Listen to every word that is not said. Listen for silences. I have become insensitive to the power of words because I hear and see too many of them. I don't say to myself, "don't listen to words." I am already a past-master of that. I say, "listen to the silence." And I discover this: because silence seems empty of content I cannot place myself in relation to it, and therefore, I cannot place myself outside it. It is a world I enter, not a world I observe. Silent people bear this out: they seem to carry a world with them, while the unsilent always seem to be scurrying in search of one.
Silence is a green, secluded garden,
Where you may walk at leisure, and
speak with the Beloved ...
Leaving the outer world of noise and hurry
To walk serenely on prayer's holy sod.
Silence is a garden sweet with fragrance,
Its grasses nurtured by faith's gentle rain,
Its every bloom a link with God,
our Creator.
Once you have wandered there,
you will return again,
And in the garden's beauty,
be made whole ...
In the Silence,
the quiet garden of the Soul.