They teach best who've nothing to teach.

Like my dog.

Knowledge comes from acquiring and grasping facts. Wisdom comes from reflecting on and digesting experiences, learning their lessons, gaining insights and developing guiding life-principles. The 11th century Islamic poet and philosopher Ibn Gabriol says: "In seeking wisdom, the first step is silence, the second listening, the third remembering, the fourth practicing, the fifth -- teaching others."
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lama-surya-das/spiritual-life-wisdom-an_b_552927.html

At class tonight we talked about the cosmos, sex education, and aesthetics. We liked the poem by W.S. Merwin:

Finding a Teacher

In the woods I came on an old friend fishing
and I asked him a question
and he said Wait

fish were rising in the deep stream
but his line was not stirring
but I waited
it was a question about the sun

about my two eyes
my ears my mouth
my heart the earth with its four seasons
my feet where I was standing
where I was going

it slipped through my hands
as though it were water
into the river
it flowed under the trees
it sank under hulls far away
then where I stood night fell

I no longer knew what to ask
I could tell that his line had no hook
I understood that I was to stay and eat with him

(~ Poem by W.S. Merwin)

To become unstuck. To be unhooked. To learn to wait.

I learned the three virtues from my teacher
And watch the grass in the wind
To know Buddha nature.
When I brood all alone
In the desolate hermitage,
I realize I have lived many
Lives as a monk.
- Hueng Powoo (d.1565)

Looking alone.

Is all.

The company.

Needed.

My dog looks at everything.

Nothing escapes his gaze.

I hope Arizona changes its mind about the new immigration law.

I anticipate being rounded up some day as being from an alien dimension dropped here to earth without proper documentation. Sure, the hospital my mother took me home from says I was born from her (Thank you, mom) and was therefore a legal birth (Thanks, Dad) legitimized by state and church (Thanks NY and St Athanasius Parish) therefore heir to all the demands and benefits (Thanks IRS and FDR) of this fine land. But, really, does anyone know exactly where I came from prior to the in-utero razzamatazz featured in National Geographic and Biology 101?

So, when I am able to establish myself in nothing, and nothing in myself, uprooting and casting out what is in me, then I can pass into the naked being of God, which is the naked being of the Spirit.

[Meister Eckhart, German sermon 7, trans M.O’C. Walshe]

Without clothes, without body, without name, and without privilege, what is it we expect God to be?

Nothing there. No documents. No permits. No green card. No fixed home.

When they arrest me they will have to arrest the nameless, bodiless, placeless Spirit that holds me in being and enlivens my very legitimate-less self.

Mark me well -- it is disconcerting to know that every church and mosque, temple and chapel will be turned over to the men on Wall Street who are betting short that God has been de-legitimized and de-commissioned and frocked with bright orange waiting to be sent to the holding tank of the People-In-Charge.

"The modern West is actually an intense combination of good news, bad news. The self or subject of rationality was deeper than the subject or self of mythology (...) However -- solely because of the collapse of the Kosmos -- the object of rationality (which was confined to sensorimotor flatland) was much less deep than the object of mythology (which was the Divine order, however crudely or anthropomorphically depicted). Thus, a much deeper subject confined its attention to a much shallower object. And there, in a nutshell, the combination of dignity and disaster that is the paradox of modernity: a deeper subject in a shallower world."
(--Ken Wilber, in The Marriage of Sense and Soul , p. 206)

It is a shallow deliberation trying to figure the worthiness and acceptability of human beings.

Same goes for God.

I've an idea: Let's start all over.

Now if only someone could make the determination where we'd start again, and who'd be allowed to start again, and how long anyone'd be permitted to continue in that place -- we'd all be grateful. Because, as you know, because we've been told, there's not enough room, money, food, or will to ensure everyone a basic, common, satisfactory life with the benefit of health care and education. Hmmm. I prefer to think that what's lacking is the ability to see truth and compassion and reality enough to go around.

If I share with you what I have I'll be ruined and reduced to nothing -- no clothes, no place to dwell, no body, no privilege to own what belongs to me alone.

God!

God?

Hello?

Not long ago I bought a lottery ticket. I grew frightened I might win.

A clean, deserted cave in the rock,

At the end of an obscure trail.

The stream is clear enough to

Reflect your shadow,

The cave quiet enough for you

To forget the world.

The radishes have sprouted,

And the grapes have leafed out.

Quite satisfied, I take a short nap.

Awakening, I see that the clouds have returned.

- Hueng Powoo (d.1565)

I don't buy them any longer.

I've noticed something about not having much money. Gratitude.

For what I have.

Is enough.

Barely.

Still.

OK.

Two very nice people have asked me to officiate at their wedding next Saturday. As a Notary Public in Maine I can do so. I've been thinking about what it means to say, "Yes."

"For all that has been...Thanks. For all that will be...Yes."

(--from Markings, 1968, Dag Hammarskjold)

I roll up the Day-At-A-Glance page from 22April2010 and toss it at the cat who claws door to mudroom scratching wood, watching me as he commits his blackmail, and cries to be let out. There is a mouse that climbs up the wood and rope hoisting the bird feeder and squeezes inside to sup on sunflowers in the dooryard. The cat sits under the feeder for hours at night. I won't let him out tonight. The world will play itself out with him inside. It will be an early bedtime.

The world is... the natural setting of, and field for, all my thoughts and all my explicit perceptions. Truth does not "inhabit" only "the inner man," or more accurately, there is no inner man, man is in the world, and only in the world does he know himself.
(-Maurice Merleau-Ponty, in Phenomenology of Perception, Preface, 1945)

We are in-the-world.

No world, no us. No outside, no inside. Just the world as itself in itself.

Mouse is in the feeder. Cat is in the house. I am soon in the bed.

What is lovely about being alive is that when the faucet lets fall a drop of water into a saucepan in the sink the sound fills the room and I am right there in its arrival even across the room.

When I opened the bird-feeder the other night the mouse peeked over the edge at me.

I wished it good eating.

Dwelling at the crossroads of abandon and abundance, there is no place to go.

A wandering monk was climbing a mountain alongside a stream, on his way to the Zen monastery at the top, when he noticed a vegetable leaf floating downstream from the direction of the monastery. He thought, "It is just a single leaf, but any place that would waste it cannot be very good," and he turned to go back down the mountain. Just then he saw a lone monk come running down the path, chasing after the floating leaf. Immediately the wandering monk decided to enroll in the monastery at the top of the mountain. - Hsueh-feng I-ts'un (822-908)

(From the Iona Community)

But to keep on going.

Love life; love earth.

Truth dwells at each intersection.

Some years from now it will be considered quaint that we planned trips, got in cars, trains, or planes with packed bags and time schedules. Time will come when in some act of intentional transportation of person we will immediately manifest and trans-form wherever desired. With a return passage, of course.

It will not be called time or space travel. It will be falling in to the inner (some say, parallel) universe residing just inside this one.

This existence is stranger and more wonderful than we can even imagine -- although imagination is the gateway to the realities rational mind and sensory touch cannot grasp.

God is nothing creating. And what nothing creates is the marriage of sense and soul transforming itself. We come to terms with what is itself-being in this world.

Meager food and a shabby house:

The marks of a scholar.

A gray gown and a black stick:

The dignity of a monk.

Is there anything else to remember?

I only open my eyes for the spring wind

And the autumn moon.

- Hamhur Kiwha (1376-1433)

Just as a cookie is eaten, destroyed in its presented form, yet transformed into the energy that types these words, so too is everything material married to what is the energetic continuation of exchange. We go on as a process of form being emptiness, and emptiness being form. There is nothing other than this, nothing other in this. Just exchange and continuation.

The Christian mystery story of the Incarnation, Death, and Resurrection is side by side with the Hindu God perceived as taking forms as the Creator (Brahma), the Sustainer (Vishnu) and the Destroyer (Shiva), is side by side with the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.

These are not parallel universes that are somewhere else. (There is nowhere else). They are one within the other as no other within the one.

God is creating out of nothing. We are creation in God. God is with us creating nothing other with compassion. Don't look for God anywhere else. We will see God when we see what God is creating within us creating what creation is longing for.

In prison today we read Chittister and Rowen from Uncommon Gratitude. Later we spoke about geology and consciousness.

At breakfast we shared blueberry pancakes, fried eggs, sausage links, home fries, coffee, and tea with rye toast.

Nothing special.

God is good.

As is.

All.

Of it.

Good.

Earth Day.

This (free) film by Yann Arthus-Bertrand entitled "Home" is an Earth Day aesthetic watch. "The engine of life is linkage. Everything is linked. Nothing is self-sufficient."(At 9:35 in of 133 mins).

http://www.youtube.com/homeproject

Louise Erdrich writes:

Spring Evening on Blind Mountain

I won't drink wine tonight
I want to hear what is going on
not in my own head
but all around me.
I sit for hours
outside our house on Blind Mountain.
Below this scrap of yard
across the ragged old pasture,
two horses move
pulling grass into their mouths, tearing up
wildflowers by the roots.
They graze shoulder to shoulder.
Every night they lean together in sleep.
Up here, there is no one
for me to fail.
You are gone.
Our children are sleeping.
I don't even have to write this down. 

(Poem by Louise Erdrich)

Perhaps the deepest meditation is homecoming.

Today, look around.

See your home.

Be home.

When we are gone, there is only home, and we are not-other than this home.

Earth is home.

I am earth.

I am home.

First session of new series "Pilot to Practice." Eight of us. Looking at Benedictine experience with gratefulness. Come by next week.

By day the sun shines,

And the warrior in his armor shines.

By night the moon shines,

And the master shines in meditation.

But day and night

The one who is awake

Shines in the radiance of the spirit.

- Buddha in the Dhammapada

Often someone will go their whole life not realizing they're not talking to the person, they're talking to the alcohol in the person.

At times it feels like the whole country is drunk.

If you want to stop talking, that's ok; they've stopped listening to anything but the drink.

There were two ten minute silences during the gathering tonight.

Good speaking. Good listening.

Is there any other way to live?

No other

way

help each revere each.

No

w

here.

How ordinary are we willing to be?

It chagrins.

Nothing, or very little, in our culture, attracts. Some days it is more apparent. The newspapers with the huge advertisements. The web magazines full of frivolity. The news stories laboring simplistic contrasts. I am getting crankier.

I've wandered too far from hermitage.

Spiritual practitioners thrive in unpredictable conditions, testing and refining the inner qualities of heart and mind. Every situation becomes an opportunity to abandon judgment and opinions and to simply give complete attention to what is. Situations of inconvenience are terrific areas to discover, test, or develop your equanimity. How gracefully can you compromise in a negotiation? Does your mind remain balanced when you have to drive around the block three times to find a parking space? Are you at ease waiting for a flight that is six hours delayed? These inconveniences are opportunities to develop equanimity. Rather than shift the blame onto an institution, system, or person, one can develop the capacity to opt to rest within the experience of inconvenience.
- Shaila Catherine, "Equanimity in Every Bite" (Fall 2008) Tricycle

My inconvenience is the failure to accept everything as it is.

No, it's more than that.

Factor in my failure to accept I am as I am.

The banana with peanut butter and a side of green juice was just the thing.

Prelude to a nap.

Wind gusts under gray sky.

Solitude wandered away heedlessly.

This is my life.

Solitude. Community. Meditation. Prayer. Hospitality - (Saskia's better at this).

Now here, no where.

Pine Bark Bread

Grasping clouds
And standing on the edge of a rock,
You alone endured the cold
When other trees shed their leaves.
Ground into powder to be mixed
With worldly flavors,
You teach people unyielding integrity.
 - Hamhur Kiwha (1376-1433)

The Trappist monk in the video about Thomas Merton said, "We live in God." That's it. He said he didn't want to speak anything further about it.

There's a candle inside. Ananur left it for us. It is lit when the sacredness of conversation takes place in the wohnkuche. This is what life becomes.

After two hour meditation practice, when dishes are placed in sink, we return to the chapel/zendo to chant Compline. Night prayer ends with this prayer:

Let us pray.
Lord, we have celebrated today the mystery of the rising of Christ to new life. May we now rest in your peace, safe from all that could harm us, and rise again refreshed and joyful, to praise you throughout another day. We ask this through Christ our Lord.

Amen.

 The Salve Regina  is sung.

Enough said.

No thanks. I'm not having any.

Because struggling for riches and fame
Does not compare with leisure,
I retreated to live in the fog

And twilight for twenty-five years.
But a man of affairs visited
And offered me liquor.
My gown is wet, and I’m ashamed to look

At the green mountain.
- Suk Mumyong

Cookie, yes. Liquor, no.

Why?

I'd rather be who I am.

And you, who you are.

No special reason.

For Events:
http://sites.google.com/site/meetingbrookhermitage/Home/events-at-meetingbrook

For Update:
http://sites.google.com/site/meetingbrookhermitage/hermitage-upate

New rug is in bookshed. Gertrude is in hospital. What is the relationship between the two? Both are facts. Both are part of our attention. Only one of them attends poetry circle at the nursing home. Only one of them has our prayers.

The morning sun shines in the lonely window.
I sit up straight, and my mind clears.
With a brush, I paint a landscape;
In a book, I study things from every age.
I have no desire to be a king;
My old broom is worth thousands
Of pounds of gold.
I'm happy to be in Imchun,
Reciting a poem, in solitude,
Away from the world

- Chunbong Manwoo (1357-?)

In Buddhist sitting practice at the prison we join the group for a brief while between conversations. At conversation Pat and JJ lay out the economic theories behind the current morass. They tutor us. We decide that, world-wide, there is going to have to be a new understanding of interdependence. Americans, especially, will have to come to terms with the  new conditions and cease the egoistic rage that longs to blame someone, anyone, for the inevitable change they will undergo.

Poem for the End of the Century

I am the dreamer who remains
when all the dreams are gone,
scattered by the millennial winds
and sacked by the roadside.

The solar clock hand stopped:
confusion and fury on the street
-- so much idle paper
shredded and tossed aside.

The small, dim shops of the tourist
trade are shuttered and locked ...
Nightfall, and the buyer turns away.

One more stolen fortune spent:
another century gone
with its fits and desolations --
I leave my house to the creditor wind.

Tell me if you know my name,
whose face I wear, whose stored-up
anger fades to a tentative smile.

I am the one who touches fire,
who rakes the leaves to watch them burn,
and who says once more to himself
on this calm evening of earth:

Awake! The stars are out,
mist is on the water,
and tomorrow the sun will return.

(Poem by John Haines)

The difficulty with self-help books is they presume there is a self to help. This is a major untested assumption. 

Is there something needing help? Yes.

God needs help. God is selfless. 

What to do?

Here's a possibility: Help God help us.

Don't worry about your self.

Help each revere each.

Jack and Suse, Kali and Rosie, Michael and Sue, Judith and Bill read the varied verses selected from The Course in Miracles. One of them was:

WHO ARE GOD'S TEACHERS?
A teacher of God is anyone who chooses to be one. His qualifications consist solely in this; somehow, somewhere he has made a deliberate choice in which he did not see his interests as apart from someone else's. Once he has done that, his road is established and his direction is sure. A light has entered the darkness. It may be a single light, but that is enough. He has entered an agreement with God even if he does not yet believe in Him. He has become a bringer of salvation. He has become a teacher of God.
(http://courseinmiracles.com/teachers_manual/who_are_gods_teachers1.htm)

There is concern about the swelling of right-wing groups. Guns, explosives, fiery rhetoric, and over-the-top name calling grow themselves in rallies, cable stations, and celebrity pay-fests. I worry the game some politicians play with the emotions of large crowds grows dangerous.

My zen hut leans at the summit

Clouds sail back and forth

A waterfall hangs in front

A mountain ridge crests in back

On a rock wall I sketched three buddhas

For incense there's a plum branch in a jar

The fields below might be level

But can't match a mountain home free of dust

- Stonehouse

Who teaches what God is teaches God to be as God should be.

I'm skeptical.

God is God. Not an old man, not a right wing or left wing savior, and not something out there judging and damning and rewarding.

God is, only, and merely, God. That's all God is.

That is: All -- God Is.

A deliberate choice not to see your interests as apart from someone else's.

The frozen pizza cooking in oven sends fragrance this way. Woman and dog wend their way home from away.

Today, in the confusion of new moon mind, I teach God the gratitude of the onliness and mereness of God.

Choose to be one.

There's no antidote to being human. We've got to go through it. All the difference of opinion. All the striving for fame and power, money and more money.

One news item said the Sarah Palin has taken in 15 million dollars since resigning as governer of Alaska. Smart move.

Here, just picking up remnants of cedar shingles and packing them into tubs for kindling. Being human is an uncertain adventure.

Zen meditation should be done in good faith.

Study hard, driving yourself farther.

When your doubt is ground into powder,

Mud cows will plough the field of pre-creation.

- Naong Haegun (1320-1376)

Progresso chicken soup in wooden bowl, garlic bread, and water from glass jar. I watch film on computer. Today is enough for today.

Mockingbirds

This morning

two mockingbirds

in the green field

were spinning and tossing

the white ribbons

of their songs

into the air.

I had nothing

better to do

than listen.

I mean this

seriously.

In Greece,

a long time ago,

an old couple

opened their door

to two strangers

who were,

it soon appeared,

not men at all,

but gods.

It is my favorite story--

how the old couple

had almost nothing to give

but their willingness

to be attentive--

but for this alone

the gods loved them

and blessed them--

when they rose

out of their mortal bodies,

like a million particles of water

from a fountain,

the light

swept into all the corners

of the cottage,

and the old couple,

shaken with understanding,

bowed down--

but still they asked for nothing

but the difficult life

which they had already.

And the gods smiled, as they vanished,

clapping their great wings.

Wherever it was

I was supposed to be

this morning--

whatever it was I said

I would be doing--

I was standing

at the edge of the field--

I was hurrying

through my own soul,

opening its dark doors--

I was leaning out;

I was listening

(Poem by Mary Oliver)

Keep watch.

I'm not very smart.

Still, I try to make my way through.

If Islamic Law male fundamentalists would give up stoning women to death, and Roman Catholic clergy pedophiles and their paternal protectors would cease their behavior, then God might emerge from the back alley where he cries with sorrowful shame at such cruel and obscene actions.

But to personify God in this anthropomorphic way is itself a disservice. There is no such personified God.

'God' is the way life longs for compassion and love.

Shadow behavior is the failure of human beings to be Godly. Projecting rather than protecting, judging rather than recognizing, controlling rather than surrendering.

The entire place is brightly
Illuminated and spiritually
Transformed,
Totally unobstructed
And clearly manifesting
Responsive interaction
Like box and lid or arrowpoints meeting.
- Hongzhi Zhengjue (1091–1157)

We've misunderstood 'fitness.' We think it means exercise and proper diet. Rather, fitness is the arrows lining up, doing the right thing, not forcing misalignment into expedient attack. What's wrong will still sound wrong no matter how smoothly it is spun and spun.

There's talk these days about being an unaffiliated Buddhist or an unaffiliated Christian. There is less confidence among practitioners of contemporary spirituality for aligning with fixed systems or subscribed belief.

Miscreant systems, structures, and sycophants have committed patricide in the name of worshipful sacrifice.

We are nobody's son.

Unaffiliated.

One of the most beloved of all Japanese divinities, Jizo works to ease the suffering and shorten the sentence of those serving time in hell, to deliver the faithful into Amida's western paradise (where inhabitants are no longer trapped in the six states of desire and karmic rebirth), and to answer the prayers of the living for health, success, children, and all manner of petitions. In modern Japan, Jizo is a savior par excellence, a friend to all, never frightening even to children, and his/her many manifestations -- often cute and cartoon-like in contemporary times -- incorporate Taoist, Buddhist, and Shinto elements.

Jizō is a Bodhisattva (Jp. Bosatsu), one who achieves enlightenment but postpones Buddhahood until all can be saved. Jizo is often translated as Womb of the Earth, for JI means earth, while ZO means womb. But ZO can also be translated with equal correctness as “store house” or “repository of treasure” -- thus Jizo is often translated as Earth Store or Earth Treasury. Jizo embodies supreme spiritual optimism, compassion, and universal salvation, all hallmarks of Mahayana Buddhism.

)http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/jizo1.shtml)

Merely orphaned.

Paternally bereft.

Earth-womb prayerful.

Bob suggested it be called "BLB." Those were the letters of the first names of the three people sipping tea and eating peanut butter cookies talking about the dissolution of the Roman Catholic Church, the heartlessness of capitalism, and the need for more cookies.

Between bites we decided to found something between the Roman Catholic Church and the Protestant Churches. It would be Catholic without the traditional Roman, male, hierarchical structure. And it would be Protestant without the multitudinous denominational varieties.

Catholics who'd fallen away could fall back into the ready elemental symbols of water, fire, breath, earth, seeing, and hearing - all with aesthetic luminosity. Protestants weary of whatever Protestants are weary of can choose personal invigoration without being against anything or defining oneself as not being something else.

At the center of this church is the wholeness of what is here.

At the center of this church is the wholeness of what is here.

At the center of this church is the wholeness of what is here.

(Are you concerned that no name has been mentioned? Perhaps No-Name need be for what or who or how what is here is what is here. What do you usually call it? Do you call it Christ? Do you call it Jesus? Do you call it Buddha? Do you call it Ha Shem? Do you call it Ram? Do you call it El Shaddai? Do you call it Allah? Do you call it Kami? Do you call it Tao? Do you call it Brahman? Vishnu? Shiva? Do you call it No-God? Do you call it Shunyata? Do you call it Gaia? Do you call it Cosmos, Theos, Anthropos? Do you shudder in silence and awe at the immense unknowability of the centric reality of everything that lives and breathes and has its being?)

In this church you can call it what you will. When you call it, when you speak it -- please do it with service and reverence for each name and each person calling each name.

Maybe we'll call it The Church of Integral Cosmotheandric Ecospirituality. If that's too inconvenient, something one-worded, like Ciao, or Servus. Maybe, Meetingbrook. (The last suggested title is wonderfully unknown but self-explanatory.)

Like God, this church would have no edges, only unlimited centers. The structure would be null. There would be no rules or dogmas, only cups for tea, coffee, or fresh water. Dancing and laughter and solitary walks with respected friends (like dogs or people) would be liturgy, horarium, and sacrament. Conversation, the circle of listening and speaking, gazing and being present, would be eucharistic.

(I, it goes without saying, will have nothing to do with this church. My hermit-nature would smile with tears in eyes from a short distance out of sight seeing the sweet inclusive kindness of the gathering. I probably wouldn't want to belong to it, nor would anyone else want to have me as a member.)

But here's the bottom line: time has come to find One's Self.

And to find One's Self where it is found -- within oneself and, correspondingly, between you and every other being. This quiet revelation will be the core contemplation of the so-called church. It would be a nice coincidence.

The Roman Catholic Church, the Evangelical Churches, The Mainline Protestant, and the Many Denominations have exhausted themselves trying to define their differences while attempting, reluctantly, to cite unity with their different counterparts.

Name it this: This New Integral Cosmotheandric Ecosystem -- Community of Interdependent Nature Collating Insight, Devotion, Enlightenment, Numinosity, Compassion & Enthusiasm. (NICE -- COINCIDENCE)

We proclaim this NICE -- COINCIDENCE to hereby emerge, exist, and include everyone.

	"How did we get here?" "How long is the road?" However it ends, it begins with us, this feast by which we come to see how beautiful we are.
	from poem "Mysteries of The Incarnation" by Kathleen Norris, in Little Girls in Church

Bring only your attention and being present. You are this place. You are that place. Call it Here. This is a good name for a church. (Help each revere each: Here).

(Send no money to this new place. Save your money. Maybe give a few dollars to someone who can immediately put the money to good use.)

And pray without ceasing -- saying: I am what is looking for what is looking for all of us.

Be happy. Love everyone. Try not to be a jerk.

Thomas Merton (1915-1968) © 1985 Br. Robert Lentz, OFM

For inspiration we'll invite Thomas Merton to mentor us.

Whatever your vision, show it here.

Whatever your belief, share it here.

Whatever your prayer, be it here.

Two of us at morning practice. Later, three cars pull in dooryard. A forth even later with two folks who will be married visiting to discuss the order of the ceremony.

They will say 'yes' to relatedness.

What the dharma brings us, what it teaches us, very essentially, is to be pure, authentic, and natural. The first and most important thing is pure motivation. There’s a famous story about a hermit long ago in Tibet called Geshe Ben. He was in retreat, and one day he heard that his sponsors, who were financing his retreat, were coming to visit him. So he cleaned his room, arranged the shrine very neatly, set out all the offerings perfectly, and then sat and waited for his sponsors to arrive. Suddenly, just before they arrived, he reflected on his motivation and said to himself, “What am I doing? This is all fake. I’m just hoping to create a good impression, that’s all!” He snatched a handful of ash from the stove by his side and flung it all over the shrine and the offerings. A great master called Padampa Sangye who heard about this called it “the greatest offering in the whole of Tibet.”
-Sogyal Rinpoche

My practice is to allow what is moving through to move through.

Some day I'll pick up the mess in my room.

Even if not, there's no order of benefit in pretending to be what we are.

God does not will things to happen; but what happens is the longing of God for compassionate response.