In the quiet stream,
I swim gently.
The murmur of the water lulls my heart.
A wave serves as a pillow
I look up and see
a white cloud against the blue sky,
the sound of Autumn leaves,
the fragrance of hay-
each one a sign of eternity.
A bright star helps me find my way back to myself.
I know because you are there that I am here.
The stretching arm of cognition
in a lightning flash,
joining together a million eons of distance,
joining together birth and death,
joining together the known and the knower.
In the depth of the night,
as in the immeasurable realm of consciousness,
the garden of life and I
remain each other’s objects.
The flower of being is singing the song of emptiness.
The night is still immaculate,
but sounds and images from you
have returned and fill the pure night.
I feel their presence.
By the window, with my bare feet on the cool floor,
I know I am here
for you to be.
From “Call Me By My True Names” The Collected Poems of Thich Nhat Hanh.
A winter solstice 2020 short stream for a Movement Medicine community
A conversation with Rupert Spira, contemplating the Nature of Experience.
We live in a culture caught in the illusion of time
The similarities, the differences, and the complementarities between the Eastern and Western understandings of transformation.
Michael Meade speaks so beautifully about the role of "descent" in any spiritual journey.
Orland Bishop has a conversation with a small group at SAND19 US.
Heart-break is painful. There is no way around that. The loss of a loved one is devastating. It breaks you down. It tears you apart. The life that you thought you were living is no more. The person you thought you were, has died with your loved one.
In the Sufi tradition, there is a saying, “Die before death.” For Sufis, this is an exhortation to befriend death and the process of letting go as a daily spiritual practice.
Total silence in which there is neither the observer nor the thing observed is the highest form of a religious mind.
Pamela Wilson has a conversation with the audience at SAND19 US
In these times of layered and intersecting personal and collective traumas...
Please enter your email and we’ll send you instructions to reset your password