Submitted by rlp on Mon, 05/05/2008 - 18:46.
The following essay is one that I wrote for The Christian Century in 2005 following a retreat at Laity Lodge in the Texas Hill Country. Laity Lodge is one of my most favorite places on earth.
I'm posting this as a part of a blogging exercise with High Calling Blogs. A number of us are writing about experiences we've had with spiritual retreats. Other bloggers who write about retreats will be listed here.
*****
I can't imagine absolute silence, neither can I hear it. Even when I'm in a quiet place, my mind produces its own ghostly, seashell sound. The noise in my head is a faint but high-pitched whine accompanied by a lower rumbling that sounds like an engine pulsing away in the distance. These seem to be the default sounds of my brain. It's what I hear when there is nothing else to hear.
About the closest you can come to silence is to become silent yourself and hope for the best. Close your eyes and forsake your vision. Let go of sight and your desperate need to see. Embrace hearing and you will begin to notice the many layers of the sounds around you.
I became silent on the evening of July 11, 2005, while sitting in a swing hanging from a tree at Laity Lodge, a retreat center in the hill country of Texas. I became silent and told God that I would listen to everything and hoped to hear from him.
This is the prayer that I thought that night. "I am listening, Lord. This is my only prayer tonight. I wonder, do you sometimes speak to doubtful and wayward boys like me?"
I do not know if God spoke to me that night. I only know what I heard.
The first thing I heard were the crickets, who provided a throbbing background to everything. Funny, I hadn't heard them before I got quiet, and then suddenly they were deafening. In a juniper tree nearby an insect clattered away in the darkness. He was calling for a mate, or perhaps just singing the song of himself.
My tennis shoe scraped on the hardened earth beneath the swing. With my eyes shut and my ears open, it was an offensive noise, altogether artificial and out of place. I didn't like the sound of it, so I stopped moving my feet.
The ear can focus on things near and far, like the eyes. I turned my head to the left, pointing my ear back over my shoulder and toward the river. I picked up the distant and desperate cries of coyotes on the scent of prey. It was like hearing something from another world.
Suddenly, a sound to the right, and I turned my head back, probing the darkness. I heard a murmuring, a conversation in the distance between two men. I couldn't make out the words, but the voices were masculine and the cadence seemed friendly.
This side of the conversation, I heard a mysterious insect that made a "tick, tick, tick" noise. Another made a sound like a man compulsively rolling ball bearings around in his cupped hand.
When I had heard as far away as I could, I returned to the sound of the crickets around me. Listening hard, I heard two distinct cricket noises. There was a shrill, cricket chirping, but also a deeper, bleating call. The crickets made me feel at home. Theirs was a familiar and comforting sound. I was pressed on all sides by their presence. I was not alone.
I ended my prayer time by listening to the sound of my own breathing and the gentle creaking of the swing.
Everything I heard seemed like a cry of longing and need. The insects were breathing the cool air of the night and dragging their legs and wings together, little violins calling across the darkness for companionship or comfort. The coyotes in the distance cried out in their hunger and in praise of their primitive love of the chase and the kill. The indistinct voices of the men in the distance bore the sound of reason and the timbre of friendship.
And I too was calling in the night, hoping to find the God that I have worshiped and served since I was a boy. Did I hear him that night, or did I just hear the common sounds of creation?
This is prayer. You do not have to speak. Do not let anyone tell you that you must speak. You may speak if you wish, or you may simply listen in the darkness.
Listening is good. Listening pries open the secret places in our hearts where we guard our vulnerability from the dangers of the world. Listening brings layers of sound; it allows you to journey far away and then return to yourself.
Desire is a goodness. Mystery is another. Longing is the sharp tang on the edge of joy that turns it from storybook sugar to an aged and robust wine of the soul. Thank God a part of these three always remain with us. God save us from complete consummation.
Keep your longing for answers in check. Stand trembling at the edge of discovery and hold onto that sweet moment as long as you can. This too is a kind of prayer.
When I left the swing that evening, I knew for certain that I was but one more creature of the night, longing and listening and hoping for what I need. I'll leave it to you to decide whether or not I heard from God.
I do not know, and at this season of my life, it doesn't seem to matter.
rlp
The swing I sat in that night at Laity Lodge
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I remember once taking a
I remember once taking a retreat up around those parts in High School. The girls went swiming, while the guys stayed behind, once the girls had finished swiming, the guys would have their turn (Christian private school)
On our walk to the frio river we passed some of the girl coming back, and they said 'O my gosh its so WARM!" I had no clue what the word 'Frio' meant, so I totally believed them, dived in, and almost had a heart attack from the bitter cold water.
I also have found memories of God and friends in that place.
high and low
The high pitch part of that seashell noise is the sound of your nervous system in operation. The low is the sound of your blood circulation.
Yeah? Wow. That's pretty
Yeah? Wow. That's pretty fascinating. Curious...how do you know this?
quiet
Yeah, it is always good to finally stop and join the moment. Our minds race along, churning through plans for the next minute or year, or agonize over decisions made/not made yesterday and 20 years ago. We are so in love with ourselves! Is it now wonder that most worship services never provide time to listen to the silence out of which God's voice whispers? We might have to take our attention off ourselves!
John Cage (nervous sytem and blood circulation)
The theory is a little questionable, but it's one of the more popular at least. It gained some noteriety in the 50's when John Cage was researching into what would eventually be titled "4:33", his composition consisting of him sitting in front of an audience at the piano, playing absolutely nothing for four minutes thirty three seconds. That research included a trip to an anechonic chamber.
The remaining details lie here:
http://umintermediai501.blogspot.com/2007/12/john-cage433.html
inviting others to post about retreat...
Thanks for posting this Gordon. Beautiful, beautiful writing. I especially like the cricket's song of himself. Makes me think of Walt Whitman. Good ol' Walt.
Two things Gordon didn't say in this post:
1) Any bloggers who post about retreat before Friday, May 9, will be eligible to receive a FREE retreat to attend Laity Lodge this summer. (Details at http://successcreeations.com/retreat-retreat-retreat/425)
2) Gordon and his wife are going to speak at Laity Lodge soon! I just found this out yesterday. Shame on him for not telling me himself...
also John Cage...
I used to perform "4:33" for my high school students. I built it up ahead of time, telling them I had rearranged his piano melody for the trombone.
If you've ever seen it live, or performed it yourself, it is unnerving and fabulous and funny and serious and wonderful.
4'33"
At one time, I thought I was going to blog about a different kind of music every so often. I got one entry in and stopped, but that one was about 4'33".
So now I gotta link...
4'33"
silence:
As a member of the ADDA (Attention Deficit Disorder Anonymous :) I've tried several times to be silent only to hear many things. For a while, I thought that this was just the way it is. "I won't ever be able to still my mind and be silent on purpose for more than 2 minutes." But as I've grown older, I find my practice has become more of a time of allowing my mouth to be silenced and my mind to walk along with me wherever my feet carry me as I take time to talk with the Almighty. Thanks for your post Gordon. It's good to know you're not alone.
j
Good post
I found your site a few days ago and love your writing. Your rss has made its way onto my Google homepage. Thank you for opening yourself up to us - I wish more Christians would admit that they aren't perfect and that this journey is indeed a struggle. Good stuff.
thanks!
thanks!
silence
This is beautiful. In the past three or four years, I've come to treasure my times of silence. Silence begets wonder at God's grace. In the silence, God opens my eyes to the beauty around me--His beauty, a beauty of a future hope intruding on today.
I'll have to write about my weekend "retreat" this past weekend for The High Calling deal.
Living Silence
I really appreciated this particular post. As a Friend (Quaker) it is really challenging to explain what happens during my experience of our silent worship. I thought this nicely captured the intention of expectant waiting, the offering and surrendering of self and being part of a living silence.
Most times I am deeply challenged by what is revealed in the silence although not always comfortable with the messages given. Sometimes I do hear that still small voice and sometimes it as if I am completely and utterly absorbed by God and somehow the message is just as clear as if I had heard that voice; it seems to be written on my soul. And then sometimes the only message I hear is that I have laundry and dishes waiting for me at home.
Never in Silence
I liked how you got silent and found there were sounds all around you, even in you... not just sounds of breathing and wooing but of longing and searching. These are the kinds of sounds I suppose we sometimes hear in certain music. But I like how you heard them-- just under the layer of a day falling away.
Be still and know...
This post spoke very personally to me. I am also a Friend (Quaker) like Friendly Presence in the post above. In fact, we are dear friends.
It is an interesting phenomenon that Quakers, at least the branch that I belong to, have centered their entire worship service around silent, expectant, listening. We take very seriously the text, "Be still, and know that I am God." That is not to say that some do not pray with words, but it is prayer that generally is not spoken. When you are in a group of 40 people sitting still and silent together, listening for the voice of God, the silence becomes an almost tangible thing, and a powerful way to experience the Divine.
Sometimes a Friend will speak out of this living silence, and then the listening turns to this person whose words are given to them by the Spirit to share with the others present. It is our way of ministry, as we have no clergy. I have heard these Friends speak a few halting words, then stop as if to listen, then speak again, as if they'd taken the leap of faith to speak aloud at Spirit's prompting without knowing all of what they were meant to say, but trusting that the words would be given to them as needed.
Sometimes you hear that voice coming from within, or through vocal ministry, and sometimes, you just hear the sounds of our gathered humanity; coughs, and throat clearing, seat-shifting, and tummies rumbling if someone didn't eat their breakfast that morning. Maybe you hear the children playing and laughing in First Day School. It's all good.
But to sit in the dark and hear the crickets chirp, the swing creak, and the coyotes howl...that is one of the best kinds of Meeting, and reveals indeed the voice of the Creator.
Does anyone actually *hear*
Does anyone actually *hear* God?
Yes
If one is listening.
the sound of no sound This
the sound of no sound
This is probably similar to the "4:33" research linked above, but Radio Lab had a post on their website about being in a room that is engineered to actually be totally silent, and the sounds your ears/brain produce to fill in the silence.
http://blogs.wnyc.org/radiolab/page/3/ (scroll down a bit to the post "Hallucinating Sound")
Radio Lab is a great NY Public Radio show, kind of like This American Life meets NOVA, and often delves into the biological/neurological origins or influences of things we consider to be at the core of what it means to be "human." I'm not a reductionist, and still it's fascinating...the interplay between the physical and transcendant. (Pity they only do 5 episodes per season!)
Love your reflection on silence, and especially the idea of listening as prayer. Even listening-prayer that produces no "answers".
I hear music in my head.
I hear music in my head. Always. Never stops. Has no connection to anything going on around me, or anything I'm otherwise thinking about. Sometime I can recognize the tune, other times it's nothing I can remember ever hearing.
Wonder why?
Just curious - is the music
Just curious - is the music troubling or is it more of a comfort? I've been reading Musicophilia, a book by Oliver Sacks (who is best known for Awakenings, which was made into a movie starring Robin Williams). He tells numerous anecdotes about people such as yourself, some of whom enjoy the music they hear and some of whom consider it more of a curse.
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