A few years ago I spent several early June days on retreat at a monastery in northern Wisconsin. It was the first time I stayed within a community that lived largely in silence.
By silence, of course, I mean limited human speech and the gentling of other human noise (I’d never noticed before how loud my feet are when I’m hurrying somewhere!). But such quieting made a whole depth of the Real come alive, feel palpable.
Recently, I rediscovered some impromptu recordings I made on my phone while I was there (I know, I know. But spotty connectivity made the device mostly unusable otherwise). Though the sound quality is rough, listening again immediately evoked the spaciousness and courtesy of that quiet place.
Today I’m posting a kind of audio postcard from my recordings at the monastery. It includes bits from their prayer services, specifically from Compline, the night prayers which are the last words uttered out loud in the monastic day. And these words are almost entirely sung.
In a world full of noise and a rising cacophony of voices, this audio postcard is my offering to you — a little rest-stop of intentionally cultivated quiet.
**If you can, I suggest listening with headphones.
The Yeat’s quote…it was a descriptor of your writing. That was my first thought. In the words you sculpt and drop, a serene moment or experience of honesty is created and from that place, one’s reflection can emerge. And it isn’t just for gazing but for rest, slowing down, recognizing what was there, perhaps, all along. Thank you dearest Cole.
Ah... a week in a monastery - just what the doctor ordered. I love the sounds of nature: the birds (whippoorwills according to Marti - thank you, Marti, the ticking clock (time is passing), and the tolling of the bells (time is drawing near). I printed out the Yeats quote, and I will frame it. Thank you for sharing. xo