In my life-long impatience, how much I have missed. Last night, washing the dishes, I really looked at my iron frying pan in the dishwater. The light made visible for a moment a tiny rainbow—a light through water revealing all the colors of life. It is so easy to miss the tiny symbols. Finding them is quite different from the business of trying to hatch up big symbolic experiences. It is RECOGNITION, not PURSUIT, of meaning—recognition of the sacramental, of the intersection of the two worlds, breaking through unsought because one is ATTENDING.
Friends,
the wise tell us that God abides in silence --
that God speaks in the silent serenity of the heart.
Let us not speak of silence; rather,
let silence speak to us of God.
Together, let us enter through the door of serenity,
the silence of our heart: a heart that is free,
peaceful, quiet and calm, a heart that is one ...
a heart so large and wide it embraces God
of all and the all of God,
the God who in silence speaks all languages,
the God who in silence speaks in all creatures,
the God who in silence speaks one word:
the God who speaks of Love.