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.
There is the silence in which everything exists, and then there is the noise in my head that I have come to take as the natural background to my life. It has occurred to me that perhaps the trick is to begin to see the silence as the background and the noise as moving across it. The silence, the plain existence of things, is what is real; the thoughts are clouds.