The magic of silence.
There are these moments where time seems to dissolve. Nothing is happening, and yet somehow everything is happening. I find myself without a name, without a role, without any identity to hold onto — simply here, alive.
It’s hard to explain because it doesn’t really make sense to the mind. It’s more like being carried, as though life itself is holding me. There’s such a deep relief in that pause, when the constant argument in my head about how life “should be” suddenly ceases.
I often find this most strongly in nature. Listening to birdsong, feeling the breeze move through the trees, watching light shift across a field — in those moments, my thoughts fade into the background. Sometimes it even feels as if I merge with the landscape, and the sense of being separate from the world just disappears.
And when that happens, there’s this effortless energy, this power with such grace, that I can’t help but trust that everything is exactly as it is meant to be. Even sorrow takes on a different quality. When it rises in that space, I feel its ache, but I also feel its beauty. Somehow, even sadness can become astounding.
That’s what has made silence so magical for me — and honestly, life-saving at times. It’s not about escaping life but meeting it differently. When I touch that sense of reverence in my own being, it naturally opens me to others too. What I experience inwardly becomes a way of seeing the sacredness in all beings.
There’s a line I recently heard when “The ordinary becomes extraordinary, and the extraordinary becomes ordinary.” That feels so true. A simple touch, a smile, the sound of rain— I can feel their glow. And at the same time, the big overwhelming things of life lose some of their heaviness.
I hold onto this especially now, at a time when the world feels so full of despair and destruction. It’s not always easy to find joy, or peace, or beauty in anything or anyone. But silence keeps reminding me it’s still there.
This is why I hold the silent day retreats. They feel like a gift — for me and, I hope, for others. A space to step outside roles and labels, to rest in the grace of being, to remember what it means to feel deeply alive.
If the magic of silence speaks to you, join us on one of the final silent day retreats of 2025.
