That is often the problem - we know not easily how to be silent, and still. Both, together, that is the thing. I know how to be silent for a time, but you can be sure my hands will be kept busy. I can be still, but I will learn to fill the stillness with shouting or chatter or worry (which, I suppose, is not still at all). If we were to be silent and still we would be in the posture to hear it, and feel it - all of the earth resounding in song, and in dance, swaying us, drifting us toward truth, toward Home.