Cold moments of silence

This is not a descriptive title. I've never felt silence to be cold. In fact, I generally tend to think of shared silent moments as very intimate. Those times when nothing needs to be said; when you can just 'be,' or 'be in the moment.'

When I wrote this (Wednesday), my day started at the usual 4 am with the appropriate reading from Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals. Towards the end was this beautiful piece by 20th Century Quaker Thomas Kelly:

"Over the margins of life comes a whisper, a faint call, a premonition of richer living which we know we are passing by. We have hints that there is a way of life vastly richer and deeper than all this hurried existence, a life of unhurried serenity and peace and power. If only we could slip over in that Center! If only we could find the Silence which is the source of sound!"

Oh man... I love that: "...the Silence which is the source of sound." I suppose some might think of it as 'inner peace,' or perhaps 'perfect harmony,' or maybe even 'nirvana.' Whether they be synonymous with "God" or not I do not know. I do know that thought/idea/concept really resonates with me at the deepest level I am aware though.

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So, I was pondering these thoughts as I headed off to work. I drive 10-ish minutes toward downtown and park in my free spot 5 or 6 blocks from my place of employ. It was -3f and the ground is covered with snow. I could easily park right in front of my building, but it would cost me 75 cents. I suppose I also have this thing about the act, or discipline, of walking through downtown in the wee hours of morning. There's a calmness; a certain serenity; and sometimes I feel almost like it is 'my' town. I can disregard stoplights and roam the streets at will.

This morning, though, as I'm trapsing the salted sidewalks, just as I rounded the corner of a building, I met a guy on a bicycle. He was peddling along with nothing but his coat and a stocking cap. Through my fogging glasses I gave a head nod and said hi. He waved and wished me a good day and happy new year.

It was then that I began to wonder if it was pride I felt, or if there was a sense of comradere between us. Were we 'braving the elements' together, or was I merely trying to be someone I am not? He most likely HAD to ride his bicycle in the bitter cold to get where he was going. I, on the other hand, had chosen my particular route...

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In the coldness of the moment, even with our brief exchange of salute, there was a silence we shared; that thing that was not said; something I'm not sure anyone heard at all but the Great Silent One.

How booming the "still small voice" can sometimes be. How mysterious the moments of shared silence.  How wonderfully warm the intimacy of morning cold, where faces are carved in the winds of dark, and a Light shines clear in the early night of day.

"We have hints that there is a way of life vastly richer and deeper than all this..." Indeed.