Dear Friends ~ The expectant hush awaiting a baby's first breath, the temporary cessation of wind in the eye of a hurricane, the awkward pause in a conversational misstep, the profound stillness of woods blanketed in snow— there are so many kinds of silence. Silence can be sad or sublime, scary or sustaining; a fretful silence soaked in fear and anxiety or a silence pregnant with hope, expectancy, longing. Beyond, or perhaps within, these is the Silence of mystery, of luminous moments, and of communion.
How can we embrace the silence that carries the whispers of wisdom? Can we learn to hover on the outer edge of comforting bustle long enough to fall into unknown depths of sustaining stillness? Do we create sacred spaces to hold the stillness full of meaning? Is it intentional practice— the disciplined mind of the Dalai Lama's teachings— that leads us into the womb of silence? Or is it grace— the "surprised-by-joy" kind in CS Lewis' writing— that brings us these silent gifts? However we encounter Silence, we name her "Friend."
We are so grateful to all of you for your gracious encouragement and generous support. We wrote truthfully in our October appeal about the challenges as well as the joys of producing this Letter. In an effort to catch our collective breath and to bring the Letter to you nearer the beginning of each month, we are combining the November and December issues, just for now. In January, we'll share about how we imagine weaving the Letter in 2020. Until then, may all be well with you.
For the blessed souls who have entered the profound union of divine life: rest and activity, contemplation and action, silence and speaking, receiving the gift of God in love and returning love by waves of thanksgiving and praise, are the same thing.