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I stood looking at the water that springs from the mountain, flowing slowly and
gently, forming it into a river that reaches the great ocean. I stood, thrilled at the
gentle touch of the cool breeze of the dawn. I didn’t know I had passed my night
of solitude in the desert of my helplessness all the way to the spring. I stood
gazing at the turf in the courtyard, which was covered with dew and was melting
with sunlight. In that solitude, in that stillness, I felt how good it is to be so.
The desert which I passed through before reaching the spring was empty and
exclusive. All that I was sand and sand, only my helplessness and misery. In that
desert of helplessness, surrounded as I was by solitude and silence, nothing and
no one could distract or divide my attention except myself. In that stillness, my
soul longed to be with the gentle man, JESUS. God continues to lead the soul to
solitude when He wishes to speak to it. This longing is the desire for the one who
loves us. It is like entering into the desert; into the desert of silence and solitude
where God leads the soul to speak to the heart. In that mysterious stillness and
magical sameness, He finds the ideal environment to share with the soul His
secrets and whisper to the soul in silence His words of wisdom.
As I stood in this stillness, the waves from the sea rose up to swallow me, to
sweep me away to the depths of the sea. Solitude and silence lead us to prayer
and union.  Solitude helps us to feel the presence of God, and silence helps to put
this presence of God into practice. It teaches us to accept our own helplessness
and the need for God. And the sun rose above my head and began to set his
burning rays on me. The rays of God’s love, though gentle, burn up all that is
unwanted for the growth of the soul.
I felt the need to search for silence and solitude. I went back to the stream to that
solitude of the gentle flow of the stream. It was alive and there was movement. 
Whatever is alive moves, and whatever moves lives. Is movement not the stable
element of all that lives? Solitude is not stagnant; it moves, it flows. Life is a flow
of movement; it keeps flowing all around us with greenness, freshness, and
coolness. It gives the impression of a river that gently moves. How simple, yet
how sublime.  Our Father St. Elijah could not find God in the strong wind or
amidst the thundering or lightening, but in the gentle breeze.

Patience is a virtue that we learn to practise in this flow of solitude because
patience takes its time but it yields lasting results. And the persevering patience
of that silent stream lifted me from known to unknown; from the visible to
invisible; from the material to the spiritual; from time to eternity.
As I stood, I noticed that there were some huge stones in its path that were too
big for this little stream that hindered its flow. The little stream cleverly got
around them with creativity, courage, and conviction. And as I sat on the stone at
the stream, I understood that some situations in life that challenge me are not for
conflict or confrontation, but for overcoming that situation with prudence.
What is above is the experience of a person who was taken to a stream in her
time of struggle to show her how God can change the time of struggle through a
life of deep love for the silence and solitude and practicing patience. The stream
symbolises the Holy Spirit. Solitude is the place where we need to overcome
ourselves in order to train the wild animals in us. Among these wild animals, first
and foremost is our own self. It needs to be trained by practicing humility.
Humility is to accept our pride as the stumbling block to spiritual growth. We
need to tame our senses in solitude so that we may feel the presence of God
around us and within us. We must tame the hawk within us; it goes around
catching everything that isn't necessary to embrace God in our neighbour. We
need to tame our wild horse, our mind, so that it may concentrate on the things
of God. We need to train our donkey, our body, so that it may understand that it
is the temple of God.
And so, the solitude and silence in the cloister make human beings carry God
within. Moving about only to do His will. Breathing out the peace and forgiveness
of Jesus. Carrying the oil to cure the wounds of others.  Bearing and sharing the
burdens of others and so building up a Trinitarian community the home of
Nazareth, where Jesus, Mary, and Joseph live.