My Silence at Mother of the Redeemer Monastery
The View out my window, I moved by bedside altar and laid my head on the pillow at night by this window. As I listened to the bullfrogs, the crickets and sometimes the duck joining their symphony, I felt as though I was sleeping under the stars.
I dreamed about Mom last night, she loved being outside, it renewed her. In all her twinkling deviousness, I smiled, I understood, I helped her ... to be given the love she so desperately desired. I miss you, mom. I love you. You are always with me.
The sun awakens me early in the morning, I'm not used to this! But I love it today. Drinking in the fresh air simply gazing upon the trees ... and listening.
Listen, the wind is breathing in the trees. ~Stephanie Kaza
My soul waits ... and I wonder, "what shall I do with all of my silence?"
The glorious, glorious silence, I love you. As often as I am drawn to the freedom I find in solitude, I am feeling drawn to pray with the monks, so close by and there are so ... few of them. They have a hospitable spirit wrapped in silence because of who they are, immersed in their silence and their daily work. In the 2 little stain-glass windows of the chapel it is written "ora" and "labora" ... work and prayer. I commit to feeling my feelings and letting them fill me with wisdom in these days. I find the Daily Office and determine to weave it into my rhythm with the monks. The morning psalm is Psalm 105 and verse 15 captures me. Search for God and the strength you will be given. Continually seek God's face. This becomes my mantra for the day ...
All day long and into the night, I will seek your face, O God.
I walk, I sit under the trees in the field at the end of the Stations of the Cross. There is a very little almost empty cemetery with a large crucified Jesus hanging on a large cross. I walk, I pray, I listen to the trees and all the creatures of the woods. I pray, I read. I pray, I draw with my oil pastels and I write in my journal, my thoughts and my poetry and my prayers. I walk, I take photos to honor the space. I walk down the road and I gaze upon the rice field.
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| The rice field on the border of the Monastery grounds |
I am moving ever so gently forward into the silence and it is beautiful.
Silence has a life of it's own.
~Richard Rohr, Silent Compassion
Perhaps this is why I believe that Silence teaches each one of us how to "be" in the silence, with the silence, with-in the silence. I am friends with the silence ... "O Silence, I want to be your lover." All day long and into the night, I will seek your face, O God. All day long and into the night, I listen to the wind breathing through the trees, into my soul, and my soul awakens with longing in the morning breeze ... flowing gently, touching softly
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| As I sat beneath the trees and closed my eyes, this arose in me asking to be expressed ... wind breathing through the trees |
It is time to pray with the monks. Perhaps that is overstating, mostly I move my lips and listen for there would be something dissonant, I feel, about joining my voice with the monks. Their voices chant and blend together in a way that sends me to heaven as I am enfolded into their prayers. Before vespers, we sit in silence. It is called Eucharistic Adoration but I simply sit, with a vast emptiness creating a cave for the divine in my heart. Before Compline, we say the Rosary. I have trouble with this, too many words and I tire. I have no Rosary beads so I count on my fingers and listen for the prayers to move through the monks and finally it is over ... 15 minutes seems like an hour. After my prayers with the monks, I walk the Stations of the Cross and become more familiar with the story with each walking.
And there is Jesus, hanging on the cross. 
Can I confess that I have never understood this? I stand, I sit, I wonder ... and these words come to me, "do not hold on to me ... go." As long as Jesus continues to hang on the cross, he cannot be the Risen Christ walking in the midst of brokenness. Suddenly, I ask myself, "why is there such peace and tranquility sitting and gazing upon the Crucified Christ?" It is a mystery made manifest in the silence.
Silence is an alternative consciousness ...
the soul does not use words.
It surrounds words with space,
and that ... is silence."
~Richard Rohr, Silent Compassion
Take this link for Part 3 of Reflections on Silence: Dwelling in Silence
