And suddenly, there it is, a loud whirring crashing into the silence: a field cricket singing in the fading light. We all stop to listen. From a distance, we must look like a strange bunch, leaning towards a bramble bush. For us, though, the moment is holy. A tiny, solitary creature has the power to lift our spirits.
The person who sits is more ready to bring forth clear things than someone who walks or stands. Sitting means peace. Thus we sit, which is bowing in humility among all creatures. Then the individual comes to a quiet peace reaching this peace in light. The light is given in the silence wherein one sits and dwells.