Let this place be invisible to the distracted ones, the angry ones.

Here, we practice stillness.

Valley, meadow, mountain, dawn.

Here, we practice gratitude for the moment and our place in it.

Candle, cushion, cymbal, gaze.

Here, we practice equanimity.

Ripples and response.

Let me be like water, Lord.

(Letter #3,355)

This place, this ground, let me walk it with bare feet and reverence.

Your whispers and murmurs draw me nigh, Lord. Approach I with care, for the sparrow easily flits away.

Each moment, standing in the clearing, breathes itself.

In. Pause. Out.

Bare feet and reverence.

(Letter #3,354)

You drew me with loving kindness.

Now by the lakeside, do I see the multitudes the way you saw me?

No towers are erected on the beach, for they are built only to be swept away.

I stand exposed yet protected. How can I so enfold my fellows?

Let me try, Lord. You drew me to try.

(Letter #3,353)