They sang a capella: one voice began to mount like a skylark and detach itself from the rest, from those mingled voices which together sounded well, but from whose conjunction with this single one soared in an intensity of beauty — a voice so clear and just, yet vibrant with such warm sweetness, I have remembered it always. The fact that this great, this glorious and rare voice was singing behind bars, that the face and identity of this singing nun would forever be unknown to us, shadowed the music. Mainly, we were awed to think this treasure was so hidden.
When I drop down into myself in the quiet hours of the night, it feels as though I have tapped into a deep river that runs strongly beneath the busyness of my daily life. When I allow myself to fully experience this deep river without, I connect not only with myself and what matters most to me but also with a powerful stream of silence, mystery, clarity, aliveness. I seem to tap into a universal source available to us all of deeply nourishing spiritual qualities that can provide a healing balm for our out-of-balance lives.