The oak tree in full foliage praises the Creator, but in order to become the oak tree, the acorn has to open in the dark. Its roots have to reach deep into the earth as its branches stretch toward the light. There in the dark the shell has to crack. Only when I let go of my protective shell, when I find the crack makes me vulnerable, that opens me to the Other, only then will the night be radiant, only then will the dark be light... The spark is in everyone's soul: the spark of our Creator shining in the dark. This spark is ours to tend, to take care of until it flares into a brilliant flame, lit by God.
A legend told by the Venerable Bede says that the poet Caedmon was once completely mute. It was a custom in his village to spend evenings taking turns reciting poetry. On these occasions, Caedmon, unable to speak, would steal away to nearby hills to escape. One evening while walking alone, an angel appeared and urged him to sing. Miraculously, he began to sing and went on the become a famous poet.