Suppose one undertook the discipline of speaking only what one knew was given to speak? How quiet our homes, our churches and work places would be. Our society plays very loose with words, with talk; yet there is little silence, and silence is where meaning comes from.
A disciple suddenly discovered the richness of fecundity of emptiness -- the realization that everything is impermanent, unsatisfactory, and empty of self. In this mood of divine emptiness, he sat in joy under a tree, when suddenly flowers began to fall all around him.
And the angels whispered, "But I haven't uttered a word about emptiness."
"True," the angels replied. "You have not spoken of emptiness, we have not heard of emptiness. This is true emptiness." And the showers of blossoms continued to fall.