And suddenly, there it is, a loud whirring crashing into the silence: a field cricket singing in the fading light. We all stop to listen. From a distance, we must look like a strange bunch, leaning towards a bramble bush. For us, though, the moment is holy. A tiny, solitary creature has the power to lift our spirits.
"In my family there was much speaking and much silence. The speaking of words flowed from the speaking of our silences."
"What then is silence?"
"It is being. Spoken language and silence are keys."
"Keys to what?"
"To communion."
"What do you mean by communion?"
"At-oneness. each individual IS a word. As you are a word to me. As we are all words for one another."