There must come a winter for every seed. There must come that which protects and shields the seed toward spring, that which indeed gives its life and absorbs the hatred of winter for life, that mysterious essence which is the sacrificial aspect of life. It made the seed possible. It keeps the seed growing in the hidden ways of winter. It takes upon its heart the pangs of Christ-birth, the furor of all the Herods who represent that part of the race which bitterly had died, which had become death incarnate. She understood. He did not speak of such things. They must not be spoken within the seed. But every particle of it must know from within, in the silence.
Simplicity is a grace given to us by God ... a gift to be graciously received. Simplicity is also a discipline, which involves a consciously chosen course of action in both group and individual life. What we do does not give us simplicity, but it does put us in the place where we can receive it. It sets our lives before God in such a way that we are open to the grace of simplicity. Simplicity and solitude walk hand in hand along with silence. Solitude is the inward unity that frees us from the need for acclaim and approval. Through it we are enabled to be genuinely alone, for the fear of obscurity is gone; and, we are enabled to be genuinely with others, for they no longer control us. The grace of solitude must be rooted deep within if we are to know simplicity of heart.