The Quiet is Winnowing Us The quiet is winnowing what does not belong, exposing the hidden so we can see it, see it for what it is, its sacredness within remembrance, an occasion to study and learn, to praise, to seep in, into us, adding to us, subtracting what is unnecessary, until we have reached our essence, made clean, pared down to a single lesson, almost declared we are holy. But holiness is uncomfortable, almost fire on our tongues, so we hold back. If we’re lucky, we observe, hold the quiet still, do not hurry its message, absorb it wordlessly, be consoled, center into that gasp and sigh, let assurance please us, let nature nurture us, repair our internal damage, release warmth even on a chilly morning. We release like awakened birds into a gathering of trees, until every part of us is disturbed, until comes another wave of release and another and more, tell us deeply, we’re saved. We are no longer sunk in remorse, nothing is holding us back from being present, and whatever remains is Presence, the gladness calling and calling and responding.