I breathed in--and marveled at--the deep silence that surrounded me; the only sounds were an occasional flutter of bird wings ... a peck here, a chirp there. How do I describe a practice that felt just right? Perhaps I don't. I'm reminded of Justin Stone's article All Things are as They Have Always Been. In it he writes about the limits of trying to put words to experiences. He ends:
Words have their place and are absolutely necessary for communication and the accumulation of knowledge, but they are not capable of taking the place of a valid experience. Words are, by their very nature, dualistic, and no realization of 'Oneness' (wholeness) can come from subject-object thinking. In short, do not be afraid to experience without labeling, or even remembering, the experience.My thoughts exactly. I came. I moved. I saw ... and heard ... and felt. I soaked in every drop of silence. And then ... I walked back into the house and reentered the story of my life.
From: Spiritual Odyssey, Selected Writings of Justin F. Stone, 1985-1997