One area where we probably often have the chance to be aware of our duplicity is in our speech. We talk so much. How much of what we say do we mean? How much of what we mean do we say? How much does what we say really mean? Suppose one undertook the discipline, well known in monastic tradition, of speaking only what one knew was GIVEN to one to speak? How quiet our homes, our dining rooms, even our churches and places of worship would be. Our society plays very loose with words, with talk; but there is little silence, and silence is where meaning comes from.
At midnight the whole valley lay suspended in the mountain's spell. This was the silent center of prayer: the quiet, the poverty of darkness that made you appreciate the light. Everything bright was pure gift at midnight and praise rose to your lips for the God of the moon and stars; and if you saw a fire burning in the valley, you felt warm and somehow connected with those countless fires that burn in the hearts of people everywhere. You knew communion. And that was the great secret of prayer.