summer

Because of my blindness, I had developed a new faculty. Strictly speaking, we all have it, but almost all forget to use it. That faculty is attention. In order to live without eyes it is necessary to be very attentive, to remain hour after hour in a state of wakefulness, of receptiveness and activity. Indeed, attention is not simply a virtue of intelligence or the result of education, and something one can easily do without. It is a state of being . . . a state without which we shall never know wholeness. In its truest sense it is the listening post of the universe.

The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are attentive, you will see it.

All of my life has been a relearning to pray—a letting go of incantational magic, petition, and vain repetition ""Me Lord, me," instead of watching attentively for the light that burns at the center of every star, every cell, every living creature, every human heart.

Each age has its own tasks. For most of us now, our monasteries have no walls except the silence our meditation gathers to the center of our lives, and this is enough—it is more than enough. Our hermitage is the act of living with attention in the midst of things; amid the rhythms of work and love, the bath with the child, the endlessly growing paperwork, the ever-present likelihood of war, the necessity for taking action to help the world. For us, a good spiritual life is permeable and robust. It faces things squarely knowing the smallest moments are all we have, and that even the smallest moment is full of happiness.

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes, but in having new eyes.

When all striving ceases
I awaken to behold
Ever-present Awareness
Keeping silent watch.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?

Dance is meditation in movement, a walking into silence where every movement becomes prayer.

Joy, love and compassion are essential ingredients in spiritual growth. We are enriched by their nurturing, and our world is enriched by their actualization. Profound joy is a celebration of our vision of connectedness, a vision that dissolves division and the myth of separation. We must let our hearts dance and rejoice with love and compassion and yearn wholeheartedly for oneness and wholeness.

I see dance being used as communication between body and soul to express what is too deep to find words.