When someone has compassion on us, we find ourselves really seen, heard, attended to. If someone's attention is genuinely compassionate, it does not stop at attentiveness: he or she is willing to speak, act, or even suffer with us and for us. It is in such passivity, as we receive their compassion, that the most powerful dynamics of our own feeling and activity are shaped. Amazed gratitude for such compassion can last a lifetime.
May the Holy One preserve in me a burning love for the world and a great gentleness.
All loves are but the reflection of One Love and ultimately lead to that love.
This is one of the things that love is called upon to do:
To affirm and sustain the seed in another human being even though no tangible evidence has been given of the nature and quality of the seed that is growing there. Love depends upon the capacity to reach beneath the surface of persons, to feel and touch the seed of life that is hidden there. And love becomes a power when it is capable of evoking that seed and drawing it forth from its hiding place.
In prayer, I am learning to observe the silences between the words. I am learning that I don't have to fill the empty space because the space will eventually sing for itself. The waiting and listening and silence teach that the active work of prayer must be balanced by the humble acceptance of grace.
At the extremity of prayer words vanish, or rather the "silence-become-word" surpasses all that can be uttered. Prayer becomes the silence of Love, and this silence reveals the "I" in its deepest aspects; and, should words suddenly arise in prayer, we must regard them as fruits of love that send us back to silence.
We pray that God may accept our call for help. And we also pray that God, who knows that which is hidden, may hear the silent cries of our soul.
The seed of prayer is sown in heaven.
It pushes its stems toward the earth
and comes to grow there.
It produces an abundance of fruit.
Then, as it becomes seed once more,
it thrusts its way back to heaven.
Many people ask me, "How does one pray?" For me, alone in my room in a prayerful attitude, I just see myself as incapable of doing anything without God, since indeed, God is the Provider, the Guide ... and so I turn to God. When there is no within or without, then our prayers are answered, for surely it is union with the One Source of all Life, the Divine, whatever words you want, that is the yearning of the soul.
And yes, my friends, it is for you to find out what prayer is. It is the humility of a child. It is the beauty of being. And it is the love of being alive. So ask God how to pray with all the sincerity, honesty, humility, and passion you have within you. And I'm sure that one day your prayer, which will be God's prayer, will be answered.
Nothing is more difficult than prayer. In all other tasks of spiritual life, however exacting, one can sometimes rest, but there is no rest in prayer, up to the end of one's life.
Praying brings Therese into communion with her mother, her father and her sisters. For part of her experience in prayer is condltíoned by the presence of beloved persons: the presence of human love is a sort of token for the hidden presence of God. How otherwise can a child be trained in prayer, in realizing the hidden presence, except by the sacrament of visible, tangible love? Therese is taken into their prayer and nestles there.
Source of All, act within my being that I may act in accordance with Thine. Amen
PRAYER releases energy as certainly as the closing of an electric circuit does. It heightens all human capacities. It refreshes and quickens life. It unlocks reservoirs of power. It opens invisible doors into new storehouses of spiritual force for the Person to live by, and, as I believe, for others to live by as well. It is effective and operative as surely as are the forces of steam or gravitation.
In downtown Little Rock late one day, a monk saw a bag lady with her full cart staring at the sky.
She ignored his questions, continuing to study the sunset. He looked and saw the bright reds and oranges set against the deep blue sky and white clouds. It was a stunning display of color and contrast.
After a time, she patted his arm and he looked into her sparkling eyes, seeing the fresh tears on her dirty cheeks and the toothless smile.
"God," she whispered, "is just TOO good to me!"
If thou shouldn'st never see my face again, pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.
As my prayer became more attentive and inward
I had less and less to say.
I finally became completely silent.
I started to listen
--which is even further removed from speaking.
I first thought that praying entailed speaking.
I then learnt that praying is hearing,
not merely being silent.
This is how it is.
To pray does not mean to listen to oneself speaking.
Prayer involves becoming silent,
and being silent,
and waiting until God is heard.
A common way of praying for me is to allow myself to move deeply within into the center of self. I may begin by presenting a situation of concern to God and then move into silence. This is a dark (not depressing) kind of praying, but I descend deep into the mystery where there is both peace and silence; I lose consciousness of the time and place in which I exist in the moment and move into the darkness of God, into unknowing... I return to waking consciousness feeling vulnerable and empowered; I experience tenderness and new awareness.
Deep within us all, there ís an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul, a holy place, a Divine Center, a speaking Voice, to which we may continuously return. Eternity is at our hearts, pressing upon our time-torn líves, warming us wíth intimatíons of an astounding destiny, calling us home unto itself. Yielding to these persuasions, gladly committing ourselves in body and soul, utterly and completely, to the Light Within, is the beginning of true life. It is a dynamic center, a creative Life that presses to birth within us. It is a Light Within which illumines the face of God and casts new shadows and new glories upon the face of humanity.
The energy of human consciousness may share an afflnity with light that we do not yet understand. Turning toward that light, we might find it the source of all our inspiration and creativity.
The silence as broken at last by the bell signifying the end of morning activity. Turning to the old woman, I asked, "What are you looking at?" I immediately flushed. Prying into the lives of the residents was strictly forbidden. Perhaps she had not heard. But she had. S1ow1y she turned toward me, and I could see her face for the first time. It was radiant. In a voice filled with joy she said, "Why, child, I am looking at the Light."
The mind is to be a reservoir of Light — free, ready to give color and form, ready to speak from Wisdom's Source. Silence is the opening note. The Indwelling Light illumines the heart and mind, loosening the sightless, stormswept self. The freeing of Light, of God's own Life within, is the means of self-expression — not self-filled expression — but God-like freedom.
It is better to live a holy life than to talk about it, Lighthouses do not ring bells and fire cannons to call attention to their shining — they just shine.
Without the Light, the journey of life is fraught with dangers and no traveler's vision can penetrate the haze of self-centeredness. The ímage of God as Light that suffuses all the universe is one that unítes the divine transcendence and immanence... All of creation is replete with "signs" of God's presence, but they cannot be discerned without the Light.
The millennium holds the promise that Heaven will be created on Earth, and this will be accomplished by grounding spirituality into all walks of life. We are the light and co-creators with God, and it is our responsibility to use this light to bring peace, love, happiness, and abundance to the Planet.
Sometimes at the momet of despair, a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: "You are accepted," accepted by that which is great than you.
No deep darkness in the world
Can overcome the light.
A single candle flame will burn
Against the darkest night.
Let all the world of darkness come ...
Resentment, envy, fears.
Then light the single flame of love
the darkness disappears!
There are lights which ascend and lights which descend. The ascending lights are the lights of the heart; the descending lights are those of the Throne. The false self is the veil between the Throne and the heart, like springs toward like. Light ascends toward light and light descends upon light, and "it is light upon light."
Nothing was changed, yet everything was changed. Compared to this, she felt as if she had been sleepwalking all of her life. "God is here."
I pierce the universe.
God pierces me.
I do not think; I am thought.
I do not know; I am known.
Every movement, every breath was poetry. She had passed through her dark night of the soul, and understood now how the light in one's heart – the light of faith – could shine brighter than the midday sun.
Blessed One,
Flood my soul with Thy Spirit and light ...
Shine throuh me and be so in me that
every soul I come in contact with may
feel Thy Presence in my soul.
Let them look up and see no longer me,
but only You.
Stay with me and then I shall begin
to shine as You shine,
so to shine as to be a light for others.
Amen.
I need time to listen, to examine, and to confess ... to listen for the Voice, if for no other reason that so I will recognize it more clearly in the ways it speaks into the noise and bustle of the life I lead. The silence that I seek must be nurtured until it lives in me no matter where I am at the moment. The silence I seek must be something more than the absence of the numbing noise and debilitating detail of life in our society. It must be a solitude that is transcendent, a stillness that can be found in the midst of noise, a silence that is portable.
A day filled with noise and voices can be a day of silence, If the noises become for us the echo of the presence of God. When we speak of ourselves and are filled with ourselves, we leave silence behind. When we repeat the intimate words of God that are within us, our silences remain intact.
SILENCE: an energy which extends beyond the furthest reaches of the universe — and never vanishes, a quiet which pervades every particle of this world, and glides through the blackness of the great harbor by night, and speaks differently by day. Speech is the body of silence: the word floats up from silence; it flows back into silence. The word of relationship and the quiet of the heart are inseparable — like love and the silence from which it is born, and the rest to which it returns, unceasingly.
Quiet ... silence ... tranquility. Those are qualities of life seldom enjoyed today. Incorporating silence into daily living is both possible and desirable. But in order to make silence a presence rather than an absence, we have to work at it. The effort can result in greater introspection, spiritual sensitivity and creativity. No matter how busy life becomes, anyone can discover occasions each month, each week, and even each day, to create nourishing silence.
The spaciousness of silence nurtures new sensitivities, new sense-abilities. During this phase of the spiritual journey, the emphasis will not be directly on speaking but on perceiving: on SEEING instead of just looking, on LISTENING instead of just hearing. Eyes and ears are not sufficient... To speak from the heart, we must listen to the speech of the heart, which grows articulate in being moved and is animated by the speech of the world. The eyes of the heart do not find nouns in the world, but verbs. The seeing and listening of the heart enable us to appreciate the world and all it phenomena as animate. We must simply become quiet enough, heartfully sense-able enough, to perceive and inwardly honor this silent speech of the world.
If you love truth, be a lover of silence. Silence, like the sunlight, will illuminate you in God, and will unite you to God. Love silence: it brings you a fruit that tongue cannot describe. In the beginning we have to force ourselves to be silent. But then there is born something that draws us to silence. May God give you an expression of this "something" that is born of silence. After a while, a certain sweetness is born in the heart, and you are drawn almost by force to remain in silence.
A tourist spending the night in a small New England Town joined a group sitting on the porch of the general store. After several vain attempts to start a conversation asked, "Is there a law against talking in this town."
"No law against it," said one old timer. We just like to make sure it's an improvement on silence."
I feel an increasing desire to be silent with friends. Words are important in bringing hearts together, but too many words can alienate us from one another. Not every event has to be told, not every idea has to be shared. Once an atmosphere of mutual trust is present we can be silent together and let God be the One who speaks, gently and softly.
It is a paradox that we encounter so much internal noise when we first try to sit in silence.
Only in silence the word,
only in dark the light,
only in dying life.
Silence open the inner fount from which the word arises.
The act of inner attention seems to create a medieval walled garden. It is hedged about with silence and stillness, but silence and stillness are not the heart of it. At the center is a fountain and we see that everything has arranged itself around the water playing in the sunlight: here is the source of the timelessness that is everywhere apparent. The more deeply we enter, the more the fountain soars above; awe and wonder claim us.
It asks that we learn how to live, to make a particular path and fullness out of the spirit's eternity and silence.
The world without tears is a heartless world. The soul that sheds no tears is a soul without love. O God, save us from turning into statues of tearlessness! This must be our prayer. Tears are signs of life; they bring life back to the world. Tears well out of the heart of love; they restore to the human community the ability to love. Tears take form in cries and struggles for justice; they revive the soul of our century for a promise and a future. And it is in the people capable of tears that a promise of human community and a future for the world lie.