I’ve spent the past few weeks in silence–not complete silence, but having long periods of intentional silence each day. The silence began with allowing my words, body, and mind to rest and just be. This silence was highly refreshing and deeply needed. It allowed me to enter into a state of rest, and to sit in the presence of God. Silence is nothing new to me. I’ve spent time in intentional silence for years, since I first felt the call to living a monastic life. But this week, something new occurred. There is a new type of silence within and around me suddenly.
This new silence feels almost like a force, and energy, or complete stillness. This stillness is not empty; rather, it is filled with presence–the presence of God. There is no talking here, there are no expectations, there is only being-ness with God.
This new silence is not heavy or forceful, but light, flowing, and tender. I’ve become aware of it’s presence at all times (even though I’m not always conscious of it). This silence flows around, beneath, and between all sound and action. From this silence, all is born. To this silence, everything eventually releases.
Having been given this gift of silence, I have become more aware of the presence of God within me, rather than outside of me; I have been given a space that almost feels carved out of time to sit a simply be. I can feel God drawing me closer into this call to just be. Be. Such a beautiful word. And just like all words, it begins, and releases once again, into silence.