May 18, 2023
My Dear Grandmother and Grand Kids:
Here’s my letter for today.
We have a thick marine layer this morning, even thought he pink climbing roses behind the Agonis tree are popping with dozens of flowery buds. And our fake grass continues its perfect run.
I am reflecting upon the concept and practice of silence, today. Mainly, it’s odd because I grew up in a very busy, noisy and social household, with plenty of comings and goings. As it happened, my father’s parents, raised me because my mother, Stephania, had a mental health crisis soon after my birth and my father was in the Air Force in 1943 and for the next couple years of World War II.
My grandmother, Daisy, who raised me along with her husband, Clyde, was one of the thirteen children and some of the eight sisters visited because one lived just a few miles to the north, in Tyson, Vermont and I lived in Ludlow, Vermont, home of Okemo Mountain and when I grew up, three or four Woolen Mills.
Silence and Quaker worship were the furthest thing from my experience.
When I began thinking about this upbringing and coming to the Quakers, I wrote an article for Friends Journal about this coming into the Quakers and here’s an electronic version of it.
Here is an electronic copy of my article, “Coming Home to Silence: The Paradox of Quaker Worship,” in the August, 2021 issue of Friends Journal and the access is this: https://www.friendsjournal.org/coming-home-to-silence/
Quaker silence seemed to settle me, so that as I became quiet, it felt like floating into another dimension of awareness of consciousness.
I’d like to explore this with more posts, later.
Love to all,
Grandfather and Grandson Stan