When I am quiet I can hear the rhythm of my breath. The croaks of the crows outside resonate within me, reaching into the corners and the edges waking something deep and primal. The sunlight arrives as a presence, like a dear friend sitting with a hot cup of tea.
I learn to trust the quiet and the stillness. To wait for a new arrival, a new emergence that is a co-creation, a space where the nothingnesses touch, where the manifestations touch, where form retreats to the formless, only to re-emerge in different construction.
When I am quiet I remember the moments of solitude, of the peace that comes with being a part of the world around me. There is a recognition of the shared field, sitting by a still pond I observe the pond and the pond observes me. We resonate together in our shared origin in creation, our shared beingness.
When I am quiet I become love. I remember how to be grateful for the moments that have been given. I remember to be grateful for the beings that have walked through this life with me. I remember the help and the kindnesses, the generosity, the companionship, the teachings. I remember shared laughter and struggle. I remember what is beautiful. I remember what is sacred.