Only when I am reconciled with myself can I think about reconciling other people around me, who are at odds with me or with others. Reconciliation means peacemaking, clearing the way for the different parties, building a bridge between quarreling groups. But it does not mean smoothing everything over, making everything harmonious. Different points of view must remain. Reconciliation means taking the other person or group seriously, and also taking myself and my needs seriously.
I am discovering that Silence is not a concept, an idea, not the familiar "absence of sound." Instead, I "enter" silence as if I were to open a door, cross a threshold, and enter a room. Silence is substantive, tactile, like material. I feel its layers. It has depth like water, shallow or deep. I immerse myself in it. It is like water, supportive. I lay back in it. It is buoyant or it can draw me down. I think about whether or not it has a bottom, a ground. Perhaps its bottom turns into a top at some point, just as going east eventually leads west. I feel secure in the way it totally envelops. It is pleasurable yet mysterious.
Mark Van Doren wrote about "the [silent] web of the world, how thick and how thin, ancient and full of grace." What a lovely vocation for me to spend the rest of my years playing with the secrets of that shining place.