Silent

I've always believed in the importance of silence -- my religious upbringing prepared me well to understand this cognitively.  But for most of my life, I didn't know what to do with silence other than endure.  To be in silence was an act of obedience, akin to taking my spiritual medicine.  It was only through mindfulness training that I learned to listen to silence. 

That's not quite what I mean.  I didn't exactly begin to listen to silence.  It was more that in listening to silence, I learned to pull away the curtain and experience God.  To dwell in God rather than trying to hear a message or get a fix.  To saturate my senses with God's goodness.  In this way, mindfulness practice has opened the eyes and ears of my heart to the richness with which God has infused each moment of life.  Before mindfulness, I had little interest in paying attention to the present moment because I didn't believe I would find anything there but pain, emptiness, and boredom.  Now I know that every moment, whether pleasant or unpleasant, holds the delicious kernels of joy for which my soul longs. 

Emily Barrett Browning famously wrote (in Aurora Leigh, 1857), "Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes."

We rush through our days with the eyes of our hears closed to Him.  Stop.  Observe.  Listen.  Take off your shoes.  Receive.  Savor.  Be curious.  Open yourself to God.  He is here.  Now. 

To get the good stuff out of life, we have no choice but to be real -- fully present and engaged in life, with our senses alive and our eyes wide open.  And life is happening right now.  So what's to be found in your moment?  Silence will be your guide.