With my rent miraculously taken care of, my life went deeply inward. I hardly spoke for over a year. Many visitors came, sat in silence, and left. Sometimes I spoke, but mostly I did not. The unwritten rule seemed to be that I would not speak out of discomfort or fear of silence. I would speak only when I felt that somehow a compassionate word might help someone I was with. Fasting, silence, and reading defined my life for several years... I didn't know if I was giving myself to foolishness or saintliness.
What is it that we do when we come together on alternate Tuesday evenings? The word SILENCE is the key to answering this question. The first time we met we agreed that silence would be the container for our prayers as well as a form of prayer in itself. We sit in a circle on floor cushions with our eyes open or closed ... It makes no difference. What matters is that everything that emerges from this silence -- a word, an image, a line of scripture or poetry, a probing question -- is held by each of us as if it is our collective heart speaking. And it is this heart that we listen to and follow as we pray ... Although we do not always know the way to God, our collective heart reminds us again and again as we sit together in the silence that God knows the way to us.