Reflections on Silence, Dwelling in Silence

My Silence at the Monastery

I pray privately each morning, watching for a sunrise that never materializes ... fog and clouds obscure the sun's rising for the most part ... praying the psalms, lectio divina, journaling and simply watching nature through the window.  On Thursdays the monks pray their afternoon prayers privately so today I am on my own.  And the vastness of the silence opens before me.  The design of a contemplative retreat takes us on a descent into the depths of God, and ourselves in God, while our ascent happens on the back side.  I sense that today will take me to my deepest point as I enter into, not simply silence, but solitude.  There is both a simmering excitement and a tingle of trepidation in my soul as I seek the place of "dwelling" within God and God within me.

My word from last night's evening psalm emerges again this morning before I even open up the morning psalms.  Am I behind already?    

Trust in the Lord.  ~from Psalm 115:11

Perhaps this begs the question:  Do I trust in the Lord?  And yet, I wonder "What is trust?" and "What does trust look like in my life?" and How does that trust feel?

Even as I want to say that "I trust the Lord," I'm not exactly sure, it's so easy to say with a dismissive gesture but ever SO hard to do, I think.  I want to be control of my-self, of my life ... of those things that affect me.  And right now there are many things going on in my life that affect me.  I wonder and yes, I worry, but I know that I shouldn't ... I should "just trust in the Lord."  There is that dismissive gesture again.  Taking a deep breath ... I remember yesterday's word:  All day and into the night I will seek your face, O God.

Always we begin again.  ~A book on Benedictine living by John McQuiston

Begin again, I shall!  I read my morning psalms, 146 and 147 ...I'm hearing "God heals my broken heart and binds up my wounds."  Ok, dear God, you must tell me about my broken heart.  Have I a broken heart?  Have I not cried enough tears over my own brokenness?  How does my heart cry out over the brokenness of the world?  How shall I find the healing touch of wholeness in your love today?  

May you be drenched with the longing for peace, and make justice blossom on earth.

~Hildegard of Bingen

Ahhh, the journey from a broken heart to a longing for peace.  And not just a longing but a drenching with longing.  Such a beautiful word ... drenching.  And perhaps the silence I am experiencing in these woods is both a drenching in peace and a longing for peace that deepens my soul and widens my heart to embrace the world, aching for justice to blossom ... an unfolding of your presence, O God.

Spiritual silence demands a deep presence to oneself in each moment ... 

silence allows things to emerge in their own wholeness.

~Richard Rohr, Silent Compassion

I believe that silence can, if one is ready and willing, create an empty space in the soul along with a deep hunger to be filled ... with silence.   I am ready, O God.  I am willing, O God.  Make the empty space in my soul larger, fill me deeper and wider with the healing presence of the Silence that is you.  Make me whole, O God ... as whole as I can be ... so whole that I am only and always who I am.

I had a small "kitchenette" in my room which consisted of a small table, a mini-fridge and a small microwave.  There was a coffee pot, too, but I don't drink coffee. 

As I sit, eating my solitary lunch, looking out upon the squirrels at my window, I remember how good my food tastes in the silence.  Each morsel is a lovely delight and full of zest.  I'm not sure who enjoyed their lunch more, me or the squirrels! 

There were 3 of them, my squirrels, taking sweet moments to tease each other.  One was quite jumpy and almost anytime I moved, he ran to the tree and froze in this lovely defensive position.  One rarely showed himself at the edge of my viewing area.  He was larger and wiser, I suppose.  One didn't seem to mind my presence at all.  She came close and dug deep and came up with juicy orange tidbits that she enjoyed with gusto.

I really didn't mind bringing my own food and preparing a couple of simple meals and a few fruit and nut snacks.  When I encounter the silence, I find that I am not as hungry ... or since I am not so frantically moving through my life ... I consider each bite and notice when I am satisfied more likely. It is good, so good.

Breathe deep ... feel the sacred well that is your own breath.

Breathe deep ... Breathe deep ...Breathe deep.

I walk down the gravel road along the edge of the monastery

The horses and the cows, they didn't seem to care that much for my presence.  Hello, over here!  The horse snorted at me and cows just kept eating.

So I make my way back onto the grounds and walk around the tiny lake by the chapel. I sit in the silence and contemplate the flowers, the trees, and Mary, Mother of God.  She is a great protector and a fine companion for the silence.  She is strong and understands my heart.

As the day winds down, I read the Gospel passage from the Daily Office for Vespers.  It is a beautiful passage for a beautiful day, Matthew 28:16-20 and these words shimmer on the page.  I find such comfort and rest for my soul ... Remember I am with you always, to the end of the age." And I pray, returning to the word from my first day, the word that seems to be the foundation of my silent retreat.  "All day and into the night, I will seek your face, O God."  Is this a paradox?  I seek you with a desperate longing, God, my Love, but you are always with me.  As I rest in the silence, I realize I see you everywhere.  I see you in the ducks and the squirrels, the horses and the cows, the trees and the flowers.  I feel your love in the monks and hear you in their chants.  Silence quite simply makes your presence real to me.  As I lay my head upon the pillow, I know deep down in my soul that I see you in the mirror, too.  Deep.

Either you see God in all things

or very quickly you cannot see God anywhere.

~Richard Rohr, Silent Compassion 

Take this link for Part 4 of Reflections on Silence:  Lingering in Silence

Reflections on Silence: Moving into Silence

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.

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

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

Reflections on Silence: Arrival at the Monastery

My Silence at Mother of the Redeemer Monastery 

the chapel, filled with chants and prayers and silence

When I called, he said, "Most of the monks won't be here, being the week after Easter.  You'll have to bring your own food and take care of your meals."  My soul, gasping for breath, I said ... "no matter, I'll come if that's all right."  Looking forward to the silence like I never have before, I simply kept my eye on the day I would leave.   Inviting silence for others as my vocation ... this would be MY time in the blessed Silence.

Construction in Beaumont, sitting still on the way, getting lost on the gravel roads, knowing they all look the same ... of course, I arrive in the middle of evening prayers ... and the monk is so gracious.  They chant, the three of them in their tiny chapel and I am drawn in.  I won't be in the silence alone, a community is being woven in the silence and the psalms.  I am welcome to come for prayers, there is a schedule in my very simple room.  It's late and it is all I can do to settle before falling asleep ... I always sleep when the silence descends, for as long as it takes for my soul to catch up with me.  I wake only long enough to eat a small piece of fruit before calling it a night at 9:30.  It is good.  Amen.

a place within me opens and parts of myself let go 

that I did not even know were holding on.  

in these moments I feel all the hard parts 

in my heart and in my body yield

to a great softness carried on my breath ... "

Oriah Mountain Dreamer 

Take this link for Part 2 of Reflections on Silence:  Moving into Silence

White Flowers on a Cool Winter's Day

Poetry and Photo © 2014 Cindy Serio

White flowers on a cool winter's day
Resting together in sweet sister tree
A refuge for birds in the falling mist
Gentle beauty for a weary traveler on life's rocky path

My soul is weary and worn
I've been searching for God in distant places
longing for home, I weep

White flowers on a cool winter's day
Give me hope for spring,
warmth and new birth in my soul

Thank you, white flowers for calling me home
Thank you, dear God, for white flowers on a cool winter's day

One Lone Bird

One lone bird sitting in a barren tree

singing full, singing sweet, singing loud

singing only half a whole love song

In heaven she waits for her one true love

Longing for his presence, his gentle embrace

How long she wonders, will I wait?

"patiently I sit, patiently I wait"

She sings with only the echo of their love

To keep her warm in the celestial field

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

 She sings ... full ... sweet ... loud

And earth smiles as the melody of her love

falls like snowy petals from a Japanese Pear Tree

Covering his frail form with tears and kisses

He dreams of her and she longs for him

as the other half of their heavenly love song forms in his heart

patiently he sits, patiently he waits

©2014 Cindy Serio

written at Cristus St. Michael's Hospital at my father’s bedside

photo of "one lone bird" who greeted me in the parking lot as I left the evening before ... 

The Great Silence Contemplative Retreat 2014

Elijah's Contemplative Retreat ...

As I was preparing to lead our time of gathering for The Great Silence this year, Elijah came to my mind.  Do you know Elijah ... the one who was sent to stand out on the mountain to meet God in the "sound of sheer silence" as the New Revised Stand Version of the Bible put it.  Isn't that simply the most beautiful phrase to capture what happens when we allow ourselves to come away from the chaos of life and seek God in the stillness.  We rest in those sublime moments of sheer silence ... as sheer as gossamer silk ruffling in the gentle breeze of each breath.  ahhhh!

OH, but if it were that easy, yes?

If you aren't familiar with Elijah's story, take this link to 1 Kings 19:1-14 from The Voice Bible.  

As I began to study the passage anew from The Voice perspective, I discovered that Elijah's journey is much like the journey we take in a silent retreat.  Most of us arrive from the chaos of the world, perhaps we are not exactly running from someone who is seeking to kill us, but escaping the chaos we live in, slowly killing our soul.  We are running for our lives to a place to "hide out" from all of the details.

And I for one, as soon as I arrive and my body begins to relax from all of my anxiety, I realize that I am exhausted.  Just like Elijah, I yawn and I hold up my eyelids as long as I can but then I find myself sleeping more than I expect. If I am blessed lucky, I fall into a deep sleep, too!  As Elijah lay sleeping, an angel came in his dreams to encourage him to take nourishment for his journey, then provided food and water.  At our retreat, we have our beautiful chef who accompanies us and provides just what we need to keep going.   And each one of us sets off in the direction God beckons us.  For some it is calm sailing and for others there is rough water but each of us is accompanied by heavenly messengers to encourage us on our way.  Some companions emerge in our dreams, some arrive with a hug and a smile just when it is needed.  Sometimes our bolder companions even "honk" their presence to let us know that God is as present to us as the cool breeze that blows across our cheek and kisses our soul ...  

 

 

Slowly we realize that we have come to a new place ... it is no longer called "sleep," it is called rest and it nourishes our bodies.  Sleep prepared us for the presence of God but rest welcomes God into our consciousness and into our lives.   

When we next awaken the colors of God burst forth in the sunrise.  

Still waters run deep and invite our reflections.

To a now well-rested Elijah, God asks a couple of questions:  Why are you here, Elijah? What is it that you desire?    

And Elijah goes on a rant ... he basically says, I'm the only one working for you and you're people are not faithful to you ... I'm the only faithful one.  And God invites him still deeper.  God invites Elijah to come to the mountain.  So he continued his journey, well-fed, well-watered, and well-rested.   And when Elijah comes to the mountain, God is not found in the wind, the earthquake, or the fire ... God was found in the "calm breeze" according to The Voice Bible.  And "through this calm breeze a gentle, quiet voice entered into Elijah’s ears."  The Eternal One whispered the questions once again ... "Why are you here, Elijah?  What is it that you desire?

If God were to ask these questions of you, what would you say?  What is your deepest desire of of your heart?  What do you really need?  What do you really want from God?

Perhaps you might breath your prayers.  When we engage in breath prayers, we breath in a name for God and we breath out our deepest desire ... Try deep breathing this prayer for 10 minutes or as long as is comfortable for you. 

Breathing in ... Calm Breeze

Breathing out ... whisper in my soul

I find it fascinating that, just like he fled into the desert after the miraculous ministry event (see 1 Kings 18 for the back story if you don't know it and it feels important for you to know) he had experienced on Mount Carmel, after this amazing encounter with God, Elijah's answer does not change.  Is it possible that even though the words have changed, he has?   I think it is possible.  And yet as I sat in community at The Great Silence looking around at the faces of my companions in the silence, I realized the one thing that Elijah didn't have was a community.  He was all alone.  Or at least he thought he was.  God went on to tell him there were many other God-followers.  So he may not have been alone but he was disconnected.  Finally, God says to Elijah:  "travel back the same way you traveled here ..." (v. 15a, The Voice Bible)  And I think he may have changed because he went to Elisha and mentored him into the role of prophet.  

And so, each of my dear companions in the silence and me, traveled back to our own communities, rested and closer to God, changed and transformed ... just like Elijah!  I hope, I think, I know :)

drawing © cindy serio 2013, quote from "a pilgrim card"

The dark silhouette of the tree reminds me how austere the world is ...
~Austin Repath

i see you ... come home

oil pastel and poetry © cindy serio oct 2013

I saw your reflection dancing in my soul last night,

a stale cigarette your only companion.

I saw you kissing the blueberry light far away,

embers glowing, fire burning, ashes falling like stars from the sky.

I saw you swirling your secrets among the aspen trees,

abandoned in the story written by strangers.

I saw you dressed in black silk as dark as the deep,

softly flowing, gently fading into your pain.

I saw you falling ...

falling ...

falling

into the raging river ...

slipping away ...

slipping away ....

slipping away

i see you ....

i see you ...

i see you

come home