Wherever I am, the world comes after me.
It offers me its busyness. It does not believe
that I do not want it. Now I understand
why the old poets of China went so far and high
into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.
Mary Oliver “The Old Poets of China”
I am my silence. I am not the busyness of my or the daily rhythm of my actions.
I am not the stuff that constitutes my world. I am not my talk. I am not my actions. I am my silence.
I am the Consciousness that perceives all these things. When I go to my consciousness,
to that great pool of Silence that observes the intricacies of my life, I am aware that I am me. I take a little time
each day to sit in silence so that I can move outward invalid into the great clamour of living.
Richard Wagamese, “Embers”
Listen in the silence.
Listen in the noise.
Listen for the sound of the Spirit’s voice.
Linnea Good