I was thinking about the importance of a touch of silence in our lives. The ability to sit in solitude and reflect on our lives is a gift.
Quietly, my heart and mind drifted to my time at the Abbey of Gethsemani where I participated in a silence retreat. That was more than nine years ago. Below, are excerpts from the very first blog post, I ever wrote:
June 1, 2013
Silence. It is almost 2 days since I said a word to anyone or anyone has spoken to me. I am participating in a Retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemani<http://www.monks.org/>, a Catholic Monastery in the Commonwealth of Kentucky. I am neither Christian, nor Catholic, but Brother Luke welcomed me as a “Child of God.”
As I drove to the Abbey through the heart of Bourbon Country, my open enthusiasm gave way to an uneasiness that I can’t fathom. What the heck am I doing here? The Retreat is designed to be unstructured and silent.
The first few hours are uncomfortable to say the least. I find myself walking around aimlessly trying to clear my head. I sit quietly in the Chapel 5 times a day listening to the monks chant — their voices so powerful, as if they are speaking directly to God. Over the next 12 hours I settle in and find the inner quiet I so desperately seek. I realize I am exhausted. Maybe this IS a good time to get off the spinning wheel for a few days.
The walls around the monastic area are designed to “filter the noise.” They live in silence, and with a focus on God. They sing 8 times a day starting at 3:45am. They spend their time in prayer, in silent contemplation, spiritual readings and manual work — the tenants of finding salvation through the monastic life. Of course, they get to do this in “Gods Country,” as so eloquently articulated by Thomas Merton, an Abbot at the Abbey in the 1960’s. The countryside is beautiful beyond measure. The walking trails, the rolling hills, the lush green forests and the tucked away lakes – if there is a heaven on earth, it must be this.
I like this quiet space, this inner focus, this total lack of value judgment. As the rain comes down hard outside my window, I think about the changes I must make in my own life to be a better person — a better husband, a better father, and a better educator. And to be more spiritual.
Over the years, there is less noice in my heart, and in my head And that is the gift that keeps on giving.
About Hemant Rustogi