I went on the loudest silent retreat of my life last weekend entering the time with an expectation of peace. That expectation became my taunting enemy. The quieter the world grew around me, the louder my own pain and fear. The more I practice silence, the more I realize the depths of what hides beneath my busyness.
“…the loudest silent retreat of my life…”
Doing good and loving others is always easier than being still. I prefer to carry the pain of my neighbor than my own. I prefer to teach others about silence than to actually practice it.
Silence forces me to tend to myself. It raises some questions in me. Is the path to true rest through the reality of my own suffering and struggle? Is this really a healing quiet?
These are just a few thoughts. I guess we’re always beginning again.