We practice to live our dharma, to pour back into the stream that we drink from. Without this connection, the practice becomes a hungry ghost, unrooted, pliable to the dominant narratives of domination and control.
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When different needs are welcomed with openness, I land more and more fully in my body; I feel the feet more solidly against the earth; the dignity of redwood lengthens the spine.
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After months of fertile wildness, I finally cleared the small garden bed in the yard to welcome wildflowers. The seeds are teeny tiny brown and each one holds the enormous possibility of life and perfect beauty.
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May We Gather was a meditation on life and death…on the rituals that connect the dead and the living…the human and the non-human realms. I was alternately bored, overwhelmed, joyful, exhausted, awed, and impatient.
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