When we are stillwe feelwe hearwe see,sensinganewwith clarity. Sensinganewwith clarity,we meetour knowingof the mysteryof knowingnothing. When we are stillwe meet ourselvesas no self at all,no centre at all-anew,anew,anew. Seeking some sense of now,and all we hopedfor that to be,we find insteadthat we are free. Freebeyondsomething we thoughtwe ourselvescould understandin so tiny a wordas now.

No matter how different our circumstances may be, we are connected in the human experience of suffering. Once upon a time, in the midst of that ocean of suffering, I discovered an island of surrender. On that island of surrender I let myself be with the groundlessness of not knowing answers, which opened me to…

Do you sense the way that evening in Septemberbefore dark,first,gives itself to you? Be with the fullness of the ache in your heart-stay to discovera reciprocityfor September’s gift.  Let your heart break openas your grief gives wayto a gratitudeunbounded-your sincerestthank youin song with September. There, finally,thereis enough space to receive a gift meant to be too large to hold in the grasp of your hands.

We tend to be quite committed to categorizing our lives, others, and ourselves into tidy illusory boxes. Seasons rotate in the mind as winter, spring, summer, and fall. We live within our dichotomizations of approval or disapproval. We claim right or wrong, good or bad, and left or right. Certainly, our categorical shortcuts give us a necessary vantage point to…