We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us. Our flesh-and-bone tabernacle seems transparent as glass to the beauty about us, neither old nor young, sick or well, but immortal. I am a captive. I am bound. Love of pure unblemished Nature seems to overmaster and blur out of sight all other objects and consideration... As long as I live, I'll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I'll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I'll acquaint myself with the glaciers, and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can.
The day came when I was able to see Mrs. Tweedie. I was starving for spiritual nourishmnet, for practices beyond this everyday chaos. I had so little time to meditate and I thought I would be given something I could take home with me, a special practice so I could come close to the Beloved.
And she said to me with such love,
"You don't need practices. Love your children and your husband; this is your practice. If you wash your children, remember you're washing the Beloved. If you love your husband, remember that you love the Beloved.
Anmd that has been my main practice for years.