This week I’ve been struck by the sheer fullness of quiet.
Far from being a shutting down, it’s an opening up. An unfurling of grace and delicate mystery. Of serenity and nuanced hearing.
I love the fact that quiet isn’t grey. It’s not colourless and bland, but subtle. You have to stay with it to see it. Only when your eyes adjust from the bright lights, do you notice how profound and beautifully alive the colours are.
And don’t mistake quiet for giving up. It’s not a place of resignation. Real hope flows from deep within, with calm assurance that enlarges over time.
Quiet isn’t just a nice idea, or a concept to be admired from a distance. It’s an invitation to be experienced in the messiness of our lives. To intentionally live on the edge, so that we might be present in a different way.
During the week I have appreciated lingering with this beautiful poetic blessing from the Irish poet and philosopher, John O’Donohue:
Awaken to the mystery of being here and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.
Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.
Receive encouragement when new frontiers beckon.
Respond to the call of your gift and the courage to follow its path.
Let the flame of anger free you of all falsity.
May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame.
May anxiety never linger about you.
May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of soul.
Take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek no attention.
Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.
May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder.
John O’Donohue, Benedictus – a book of blessings, 2007 Bantham Press
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