In the point of rest at the center of our being, we encounter a world where all things are at rest in the same way. Then a tree becomes a mystery, a cloud a revelation, each person a cosmos of whose riches we can only catch glimpses. The life of simplicity is simple, but it opens to us a book in which we never get beyond the first syllable.
This we know:
The earth does not belong to us
We belong to the earth.
All things are connected
Like the blood which unites one family
We do not weave the web of life
We are merely a strand in it.
And whatever we do to the web
We do to ourselves!