meetingbrook has gone
idiorhythmic — each is
on their own unique
schedule — there is no practice
but haphazard quiet joy
Spring arrives in three and a half hours. It will ask what we are doing.
Our gate, though broken, reaches across driveway with green mesh fence and red reflectors with looping dock line steadying ragtag cloister for dog from Barnestown cars and trucks.
Birds at feeder know dregs of fifty pound bag will give until no more.
The hermitage remains cloistered.
My your events provide quiet joy and inner peace!
We continue zoom practice conversations on Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday evenings.
Coffee or tea in the morning, well-water at night.
Moments of meditation, zazen, contemplative sauntering, soul-friend conversation.
If you’d like, try it at home.
Like the final line of an old poem on cedar shake:
And so, it is New Year’s Day.
Let us know, by whispers in the still-dark of intimate dawns, the events of your life, the thinks in your many lives that draw you closer to yourself, that call to oneself, saying “I am here!”