“I am coming to the end of a month-long retreat at New Clairvaux and I am dreading going back home. I live in a nice condo, a mile and a half from the ocean, in a walkable neighborhood in Southern California so seriously, why don’t I want to leave? I realize it’s because, even with the level of privilege I enjoy, the world I am returning to is not a very peaceful place…there is so much noise. There are the typical sounds of city life – traffic, doors slamming, sirens blasting, airplanes overhead, dogs barking. Yet, there are also other kinds of noise: the noise of having too much stuff; the noise of having too many choices (truly, how many kinds of peanut butter do we need); the noise of digital distractions (soooooo much content); the noise of the news (weather-related disasters, political infighting, crime); the noise of tasks and errands that need to be ticked off my To-Do list. Here, though, the noises I hear are a balm to the soul – the cry of a vulture, the rustle of the trees, the chattering of squirrels chasing each other up a tree, the sound of water burbling out of a fountain, the chanting of the monks. Here, there is The Grand Silence, when the world closes up shop for the evening so prayer, reflection, and rest can take center stage. Here, there is a quiet simplicity – few choices, a daily routine, the soothing color pallet of nature and centuries-old stone, and minimal furnishings. This lack of noise gives rise to peace, and peace gives rise to all manner of things – deep conversations, healing, discernment, clarity, and transformation. Is it any wonder that, though my life is calling me home, my heart wants to linger here.”