I am not always able to do so. Like the exposed maple and oak in winter, silence engages the self in a much more exacting way. It lays bare my being. Rather than sit still and listen, it is easier at times to allow my passions to scamper about like rabbits on a dirt road. At other times, the silence can draw me into a communion with the mystery and lull me into a meditative mood with creation.
Appreciation glows within like embers being poked by an iron.
I greet the howling wind with wonder, not a solitary chill. For the thousands who visit this mount, scripture and the Rule of Benedict shepherd the way. An egalitarian spirit as Christ taught is practiced. It does not segregate according to wealth or social standing. Teachers and toilers, educated and unschooled, rich and poor, healers and the hurt, pray, eat, sleep, work and wonder together in the chapel, the refectory, the guesthouses, the fields and along dirt paths.