Silence is never empty.

Sometimes in the thick quiet of those soft summer nights, I listen. For it is in the quiet that the voices of things deep and marvelous and adventurous whisper simply because a world of noise grants them no space. Therefore, if we have no quiet, we will hear plenty of noise, but we will not hear a single voice.

Self-serving biases and self-centered agendas are cotton jammed in the ears of our conscience. Even if truth shouts, we can’t hear it.

The drum to which we march reveals the conductor to whom we’re listening.

The greatest lessons I have ever learned happened at the times where I kept my mouth shut and my ears open. The problem is, I have great difficulty keeping those in the right order.

I find it utterly abhorrent that the magic of language to splash marvelous visions across darkened minds and infuse hope to hearts where it had all but vanished is turned by greed and avarice to the endeavor of manipulating visions and imputing false hope. However, if we would stop ‘hearing’ the words and start ‘listening’ to them, we would bring an immediate halt to such atrocities.

Truth speaks for itself if we’d just let it speak.

Silence is the place where we can listen without having to hear anything. And in not having to hear anything we can, in fact, now listen to everything.

It might behoove us to realize that isolation is the absence of all the senseless clutter, and all the incessant racket that would keep God from having ample room to show up and sufficient silence to be heard. Therefore, isolation may actually be the place where we are least isolated.