The fruit of silence is known only to those with experience. There is gradually born within us in and of our silence itself, something that will draw us on to still greater silence. God leads us into solitude to speak to our heart. Let our hearts be a living altar from which there constantly ascends before God pure prayer, with which all our acts should be imbued.
By now, every thermometer I have has burst at temperatures over 130 degrees. The abbot of the monastery suggested I make a journey up to a cave in the mountains with an elderly monk as guide. We had to walk barefoot as we were walking on holy ground. Under my breath I muttered and grumbled. The monk was well aware of me, and as I began to listen to what he was murmuring, I discovered it was melodic. He was actually singing a song of praise for the wonder and beauty of the day as I was accursing!