Art by Norman E. Masters
The quiet people are a bosom to the world, and opinions do not own them. They are an ear to any soul, and a listening post to their hearts.
Spiritual silence is not dumb; it speaks when spoken to. It comes from a deep attendance that watches silence for the authentic emissaries of love's response. Yes, silence is a watching; and silence is a waiting. It is held within the prospect of abiding, as a seashell holds within itself the call of the ocean.
It listens to the sound of its nature for resounding sincerity. It anticipates in the stillness of quietude, and so can be the sounding board of divine resonance. Quiet people are attractive to the world. For every confused wave of sound must find a shore to rest upon. They are at once a shore and a peaceful harbor for the tumult of disturbance.
The silent heart cares not to be right, and does not concern itself with wrong. It accepts what can be found in commotion is just the emotional echo of its own truth. Knowing this, it sees truth in delusion and stillness in the wave. It offers repose from the haven of compassion.
We all must find this soundless speaking in ourselves. It is a voice from the oracle of love's expression. It is never a reaction, or recoil. It has no backlash in the world. It is a pure sound, for it does not arise from righteousness, but from forgiveness. It seeks nothing of its own, but accepts that hearing is an inward attitude, not an outward manifestation.
Silence is our answer to every question. Yet it is not speechless; it thunders in the voice of love. In the valley of the soul the mountains of the heart echo. Everything calls back to Unity like rain becoming sea, becoming sky.
Quiet people are the bosom of God. They are nourished on the breast of trust, and fear not to reveal the sacred heart of their silence. Like a master's portrait, they show themselves as all humanity. They can laugh without any unkindness, and can speak without sound. When they weep they become your own tears; for they have learned the value of being you, no matter what value you have placed on yourself. They are childlike; for they reach for your hand, and call you Father.
Jesus gave his sermon to the desert wind, knowing it would part the curtain of our soul, before the dead returned. His silence in you shatters reason, and brings Prophets to their knees. I am pleased to appoint you minister of my heart. When you climb the pulpit of being I will be your amen. In this, our garden of peace, robins emerge like tigers from the snow flowering in us both, as an exaltation of doves. You are my New Testament, and I your scripture of silence. We listen together for love's answer.