There’s silence, and then there’s the way I operate.

Henri Nouwen in, “The Way of the Heart”, relates a story told of one of the desert fathers, Diadochus of Photiki.

“When the door of the steambath is continually left open, the heat inside rapidly escapes through it; likewise the soul, in its desire to say many things, dissipates its resemblance to God through the door of speech, even though everything it says may be good. Therefore the intellect, though lacking appropriate ideas, pours out a welter of confused thoughts to anyone it meets, as it no longer has the Holy Spirit to keep its understanding free from fantasy. Ideas of value always shun verbosity, being foreign to confusion and fantasy. Timely silence, then, is precious for it is nothing less than the mother of the wisest thoughts.”

Wow. “… pours out a welter of confused thoughts to anyone it meets.” This guy’s watched me in action.

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