A Cave of Quiet

There is no doubt in my mind that I am not called to the life of a hermit but I am looking for a cave of quiet. The little collage above I created for an on-line class that I signed up for in a moment of holy insanity. It depicts my desire to return to the monk and the artist in me. I need only gaze upoon it, to experience a quieting within.

Why it is so difficult to get my deepest desires to hold hands with my distractions is somewhat of an enigma. I suffer from and am blessed with creative distraction, often known as ADHD.

People seem surprised to learn that even with my ADHD nature I am so drawn to the prayer of quiet. "Are you able to sit still when you meditate?" they ask me. My answer to that question is, "Yes, I am able to be very still.!" Once I arrive at my place of prayer I actually feel at home. But you see, my difficulty is not sitting still; my struggle is with what happens "on the way to the cushion." On the way to the cushion can be anguish. Still, I choose to call it creative distraction because in those moments of disruption some very exciting and beautiful things occur. Things that were not on my schedule or my "to do" list suddenly become little miracles of grace. New ideas arrive.

Truly, it is both a suffering and a blessing. For years I beat myself up because there were no stop signs on the way to the cushion and yet I stopped. Now I am trying to be more gentle with the stops along the way because you see my goal is not really getting to the cushion. My goal, if there is such a creature, is being present to all that IS. My desire is to rest in the Holy Mystery and sometimes that happens before I arrive at the cushion. What I want is to be utterly present to every moment. What I want is to be Christ!

It is true that on the days I actually arrive at the cushion I often weep. But I am not sad! When I look at the picture above I weep. But I am not sad. My tears know more than I do. That's why I listen .

SILENCIO

When I visited the Sistine Chapel in summer of 2008 the guards were forever crying out, SILENCIO. People would become silent for awhile and then their voices would rise again. I appreciated the reminder to view all that awesome sacred art in silence.

Whenever I stand before beauty, I tend to be drawn into what I call a natural silence. There are many kinds of beauty: a loaf of bread--just out of the oven, a rotten log surrounded by buttercups, a tear, a smile, mist rising from the pond, flowers struggling in the summer heat, orchards and vineyards laden with fruit. It may not be the Sistine Chapel but in these moments also I often hear an unknown voice chanting, SILENCIO. What do you say when there's nothing to say? Say nothing!

I reflected on this last week while I was in silence during our community retreat. We didn’t have any sister-guards standing around calling out SILENCIO, and for the most part that wasn’t needed. In a monastic community, silence during a retreat is kind of taken for granted. We need to go beyond just taking it for granted though. Each time I attend a retreat, the value of silence is renewed for me. I find myself being encouraged and invited to build time for solitude and silence every day—not just while on retreat.

I will be leading a contemplative retreat in Colorado Springs in October of 2010 and was recently asked by one of the leaders if the retreat was a totally silent retreat. In my prayer I reflected on how to answer that question and these are the words I was given:

“Although the retreat is not totally silent we assume that if you come to a contemplative experience you will have some desire to be led to the deepening places which requires a faithful listening to the spaces between the words. We would also hope to find in you a willingness to help create the kind of atmosphere in which your companion seekers in the retreat will be led to live in the shade and the shadow of God’s wings.”

As I think over that answer I am reminded of a moment during our community retreat when I was drawn into gratitude because of the sensitivity of the people who work at our monastery. I was alone in the dining room having coffee after one of the conferences. Two of our workman came in and sat down at a table to have coffee. Aware of my presence, they were totally silent even though they ordinarily talk at their coffee break. Their choice of silence struck me as a gesture of loving support for my retreat. I received it as their gift to me.

As I walk through the garden these hot summer days it is as though all of nature is crying out without words: SILENCIO.

Where do you find moments for silence

and solitude in your daily life?

What calls you into the quiet?

At dawn, after struggling to be born;

The Moon Flower lifts up its face

and again I hear the invitation,

SILENCIO!

I Left My Voice in San Francisco

Home from the San Francisco bay area where I was leading a silent retreat at San Damiano Retreat Center in Danville. The 84 retreatants were edifyingly quiet. I was inspired by their faithfulness to the silence. The photos here surely portray that this is a place of graced beauty and you might consider coming here some day for a soul journey.


The amusing irony of it all, which may actually be a bit prophetic, is that I lost my voice almost as soon as the retreat was over. Perhaps God is telling me to eat my own words. I flew back to Arkansas in silence, even wrote a note to the airline attendant so she would know what I wanted to drink.

Every experience is a teacher and so I am trying to learn from this silence that was not on my schedule. Most of the things on my TO DO LIST for today I have put aside. Sleeping, reading, resting, caring for my health: those things I tend to put on the back burner, are right up front now. They have my attention. At the moment I can only whisper. It is silent in my heart too. The prayers of the retreatants have followed me home in silence.

I think we talk

because

what lives inside silence

scares us.

-spoken by Angel in Linda Hogan's book, Solar Storms

September’s 3rd gift

Listen to your Loneliness

—Listen to the Silence

I am watching myself live more and more these days which, at times, gives me considerable concern and at other times evokes much enjoyment. It is all part of my evolving call to live more mindfully. This morning during one of my moments of pacing as opposed to centering, I suddenly heard the voice of a character in one of Linda Hogan’s novels saying: “I think people talk because what lives inside silence scares them.” She may be right. Even I, who write so much about silence find myself, at times, fearing the core of silence. What lives inside silence scares me. What lives inside silence is the terrible beauty of being alone with the Alone. What lives inside silence is the challenge of nada, nothing but being—pure being. That sweet eternal darkness that has no voice—the beauty of someone Divine holding me. Can I bear the mystery of being alone with the One who is all-one? What lives inside silence is the Great Loneliness. Many of us fear the loneliness. Oh! Anything to smother the loneliness: surf the web or the TV channels, collect friends on facebook, call someone on the phone, have three more cups of coffee, clean out a closet, text someone to tell them the sun is out or you’re eating deep fried onion rings (or something else that they really don’t need to know). All those things are fine. They aren’t evil; they can even be fun. But you know what? Sometimes they get in the way of transformation. They get in the way of spiritual growth.

There are some who move beyond their fears and find inside the silence, an immense peace. On some days I experience this peace but there are times when I still surrender to the fear.

September’s third gift is to find grace in loneliness,

immense peace in silence.