Silence is the language of God, all else is poor translations, says Rumi. Beyond the experience of deficient, negative silence in our lives, when the mind and heart becomes quiet and at times completely still and clean, we are pointed directly to the truth of our being. In the silence of all things the grooves and tendencies of the habitual mind stand out in vivid colour. In silence there is a falling away of name, form and self.
To truly embrace the intensity of our longing and sorrow, our hopes and fears, to be present and open as we are impacted by our past, and to live with inner ground and freedom in the midst of the joys and sorrows of the world, what is is needed is a great heart, but a also a human heart. Do we know the true capacity of our heart?
All human endeavors take some effort, but what is a balanced effort and from what place of our being does it originate? We can train the mind to respond appropriately, to be balanced here and now, but it is never a fixed position. We know what being out of balance feels like. What supports the open ease and wholehearted capacity of inner balance? How can we step out of our own way, so the effort in practice becomes effortless?