INEFFABLE

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[Silence can] say what words cannot. It can express intimacy so deep that speech becomes superfluous. It can portray a love so close that voices become obsolete. That silence is not emptiness. It is filled with the ineffable. Some words are only placeholders for things too divine to explain.

via Words/Love.

FOR MONTHS I’ve noticed that the most often visited post on this blog is Silence and that email correspondence ex-blog is, more often than not, silence / retreat / prayer or meditation-related. And a feature in our parish life that binds people at every stage in life, from children to the very elderly, is our shared times of silence. Monthly Monday Meditation (half an hour’s shared silence for meditation with one simple spoken prayer for blessing before departure in silence) has been one of our biggest and most consistent growth points for more than 12 months in a row. Many, many people – writing from every corner of the globe – tell me of their desire to seek out ways of being more fully inclusive, to break down “walls that divide”, to find (or better to celebrate having found) a deeper communion. There’s an appetite, a hunger, all over the world, for silence. I love this photograph (Vega, Fuerteventura, Islas Canarias) because, years after making the image, I can “hear” the silence I encountered at the time. The only sound around in those mountains was the high-song of a tiny shrike.

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Why is the world searching for silence? My blogging friend, Francesca Zelnick, Words/Love, with her tremendous gift for finding the right word even when her subject is no words, seems to me to have struck gold: [Silence] “is filled with the ineffable. Some words are only placeholders for things too divine to explain.”

Meditatio Podcast here | The World Community for Christian Meditation here

not ready for silence just now? Try Flying – “close your eyes” by Mira Shvangiradze

Silence in the City video here

UNFOCUSED

GUESSED? Oranges and lemons! Well, could be, but not actually. This is a Christmas tree, captured by my Nikon D90, with AF-S Nikkor 50mm f/1.4G lens, at f/1.4, at 0.0125s (1/80), manually unfocused. And here’s a thing about playing with light like this: it’s good for the imagination. And imagination is good for prayer. And prayer is good for faith. And faith gives substance and depth to life. Oranges and lemons, or planets, or sweets, or orbs. And look at the depth. And coloured hues, touching and glancing off one another. Whence the ovals, the occasional horizontal, the overlap, the bounce, the dark, the amber, the light? A mystery. A Christmas tree? – well, may retort a commentator, you could have fooled me! Here’s what I see … and something develops: life; story.

It’s like prayer, isn’t it? Mystery, depth, layers, surprise, unfocused colour and object, call, attraction, an invitation to be. I hope there’ll be times in 2012 when I’m manually unfocused, for to be so is an essential part of the call and invitation of the Divine to me. (And maybe, should anyone read this, to thee!)