In silence, Wrote Thomas Merton, God ceases to be an object and becomes an experience. Today, I felt that when Maria and I sat out by the pasture and read alongside one another for more than an hour.

Neither of us spoke, and the silence was healing, calming, and nourishing. It is always a surprise to me to feel so much love in silence.

In a world of never-ending noise, confusion, and conflict there must be times and places of silence, inner discipline, and peace.

In silence, love and perspective can blossom. In our culture, loud noises and emotions are everywhere. I picture myself taking the earphones out and listening to the sounds of life.

I’m always surprised by the things I hear when I am silent, and there are no humans around.

The world of men has forgotten the joys of silence, writes Merton, “ the peace of solitude, which is necessary, to some extent, for the fullness of human living. Man cannot be happy for long unless he is in contact with the springs of spiritual life, hidden in the depths of his own soul. If man is exiled constantly from his own home, locked out of his spiritual solitude, he ceases to be a true person.”

I  read this powerful passage when I wrote Running To The Mountain twenty years ago. I was locked out of my spiritual solitude and had ceased to be a true person.

I bought a cabin in upstate New York; my only companions were two Yellow Labs, Julius and Stanley. I found myself there in silence and solitude.

I believe it is easy to lose myself in all of the anger, conflict and confusion banging on my dogs, shaking my soul.

There is often greater comfort and wisdom in the substance of silence than in answer to our questions.

When I slip into silence, I am liberated, no longer involved in the dissection and measurement of life, but instead in the joy of its living.  I can discover my own kind of prayer in which there is no distraction, no anger, no argument, no fear.

Silence is a prayer; I’m going to treat myself to more this weekend and heal from the noises outside, today I found my spiritual solitude.