Those whom God calls into silence will enter a vortex which will shatter them into little pieces. Looking here and there you will see fragments of a human being. You will behold you own fragmentation and wonder why you do not die. I do not know why. God knows. But in silence, God will gather together your fragments. And when you emerge from the sea of silence you will be thunder. And this thunder will pass beyond the galaxies as if you were a bird sent forth to preach the gospel to the whole universe ... People will not know where the thunder is coming from, but it will be coming from your heart. God has entered it through silence. Having put together your fragmented self, God now tells you to go on a pilgrimage to preach the gospel in a silence that is more powerful than any words you have ever spoken. For, silence is more powerful than any words, except one: the Word. It is by entering the Word that to some the gift of utter silence, and therefore complete speech, is given."
Quiet, contemplative prayer happens when we are still and open ourselves to the Spirit working secretly in us, when we heed the psalmist's plea: "be still and know that I am God." These are times when we trustingly sink into God's formless hands for cleansing, illumination, and communion. Sometimes spontaneous sounds and words come through us in such prayer, but more often we are in a state of quiet appreciation, simply hollowed out for God. At the gifted depth of this kind of prayer we pass beyond an image of God and beyond any image of self. We are left in a mutual raw presence. Here we realize that God and ourselves quite literally are more than we can imagine.