And if, happy in the lot of no created thing, he withdraws into the center of his own unity, his spirit, made one with God, in the solitary darkness of God, who is set above all things, shall surpass them all.
— Giovanni Pico della Mirandola
(female mallard on the San Antonio River / San Antonio, Texas / Julie Cook / 2014
If I choose to go my way alone, wandering in one direction. . .all the while, as the world travels the opposite path, do you think of me as lonely?
If I prefer the silence of nothing compared to the constant wiring din of life’s deafening sounds, do you find me odd?
If I choose to leave behind the constant steady kinetic energy of the masses, seeking the single movement of One, do you think me sad?
If I am afraid of me, of being alone inside of me, who then can depend on me being fully there for them?
It is only in the recesses of the silence of my soul, far down in the depths of a seemingly empty void of nothingness, where I can begin to hear the tender sweet whisper of the Creator—this, as He whispers to soothe and woo His beloved, His created.
How can I, or you, say that God is dead, that God is silent, that God is non existent if I, or you, choose chaos over peace, noise over silence, crowds over solitude?
I, as well as you, leave Him no room, no space, no place. . .
He is not the raging storm.
He is not the restless wind.
He is not the shaking ground.
He is not the loud crashing waves
He is the Silence
He is the Stillness
He is the Calm
He is the Hush
I seek the solitariness of my being in order to find Him waiting.
He waits for me to come to Him not in the hustle bustle of my senses and nerves but rather He waits only within the emptiness of my soul.
I must pour off the excessiveness of my life
I must lose myself from not only the world but from myself as well
I must be quiet in order to find my voice
I must be empty in order to be filled
I must be solitary in order to be joined in Union
The Creator waits for His beloved in the space of the solitary