Candlelight places

The darkness and roughness of convent walls gave her a chill.

I am a doer - she says.
                                         I don’t do quiet - she deliberates.

She has a hard time with stillness, even though a night by candlelight is one of her favorite places. Not necessarily the place itself; but the place of peace, contemplation and stillness. Without words. Just that raw silence that speaks out loud and delights the heart.

We do not only live in a busy, but also in an occupied world. Our mind is occupied by thoughts and questions, doubts and commitments, images and dreams, unfinished answers and revelations, plans and agendas, schedules, traffic, laughter and conversations.
Our hands…oh those are occupied by tasks and gadgets, bus handles and utensils, car wheels and pillows, appliances and clothes, coffee mugs and drugs.
Our land is occupied by cars and au revoirs, dinner tables and cables, gardens and towers, farms and alarms.

We seem to have lost the art of ending, of breaking, of silencing ourselves.
We seem to not have any space or time left for candlelight places. In rural environments, perhaps, but not in urban ones. So we make of retreats our sacred havens.

But she still belongs to stillness. And silence belongs to her.
                                                                                                      See my face.
Here and there. Everywhere. The candlelight remains.

A note to the reader: this is the first piece out of a series of four. 
Please follow the link for the next three pieces of the compilation.