March 15th, 2005


The morning's meditation

Quietly, I sit beneath an old oak tree.

The leaves rustle in the breeze.

The ground is wet but warm.

The sun is shining overhead.

The sky is a deep blue, bright and beautiful on this crisp March morning. I gaze at the world around me. Up before the people who often move through here, the quiet is more like silence. Everything is alive. Everything is real.

Everything is as it should be.

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