Beautiful Silence

I have been reflecting on the “holiness of the ordinary,” a phrase used by Walker Percy. At a two-day silent retreat from which I recently returned, I ventured to reflect on the beauty and sacredness of everyday things. I was more or less successful in this endeavor at different times.

For me, I tend to have a forgetfulness of everydayness. I can become entranced with philosophical and theological ideas and muse at the complexity and beauty of thought. My thinking becomes abstract and I become like a ghost circumnavigating the cosmos. I still realize and hold constant the truths of God’s continual presence and grace dynamically and lovingly sustaining all creation, but usually this type of insight becomes an intellectual musing rather than a concrete experience. My personal task for the retreat was to use my senses to become more aware of concrete existing things as the focal point of my reflection on beauty, simultaneously to sense both the physical and spiritual dimension of things.

During the silence, I became more grateful for everyday things. The retreat center lent itself to such reflection for it was constructed with beautiful fountains and gardens of flowers on top of a hillside that overlooked the city in the distance and forest below. It wasn’t exactly a miracle that I was able to experience beauty in such an environment. I think the challenge is to be aware of such beauty in the fast-paced throngs of everyday living. Yet all of nature still has a majestic quality that makes one wonder, and staring at a flower can truly hint to something mysterious. Why does something so small and simple attract and please me? This was one of those rare moments where I felt gratitude for everyday things.

In the beauty of silence, there was something beautiful about those silent. Literally, I distinctly remember that many of the people I knew seemed more beautiful when they were not talking. Maybe this judgment was because they became more mysterious or less obnoxious, it really is hard to tell. Either way I certainly was more receptive. All of us dined, walked around, and prayed in silence. There was a peaceful harmonious quality to our actions. The point is that the silence allowed me to be more receptive to those people and things around me and experience their sacredness in a way that I usually neglect.

In the end, I admit that the reason I cannot always see the beauty in things and other people is a lacking on my part. I need to quiet myself more often. I also realized that I, who have very few things going for me in terms of good looks, maybe should try practicing silence more often.