The center of our union with God is on a deeper level than mind or intellect. It is in the very center of existence, which could be called the will-to-God. This will is a silent faculty; it does not think, speak, remember or form images ... To know the will of God, we have only to remain silent, remain in the still center which, automatically, without a single thought, is the present acceptance of the present moment, and what we are at the moment ... The secret of the unitive life is the graced ability to live in this passive silence of our will running into God's will, a silence which is always here and now, and always one with God. The truest communication with God is absolute, total silence; there is not a single word in existence that can convey this communication.
And now above and beyond the birds' song, Andy hears a more distant singing, whether of voices or instruments, sounds or words, he cannot tell. It is at first faint, and then stronger, filling the sky and touching the ground, and the birds answer it. He understands presently that he is hearing the light; he is hearing the sun, which now has risen, though from the valley it is not yet visible. The light's music resounds and shines in the air and over the countryside, drawing everything into the infinite, sensed but mysterious pattern of its harmony. From every tree and leaf, grass blade, stone, bird, and beast, it is answered and again answers. The creatures sing back their names. But more than their names. They sing their being. The world sings. The sky sings back. It is one song, the song of the many members of one love, the whole song sung and to be sung, resounding, in each of its moments. And it is light.