Beyond the Fields We Know: Just a Little Sunday Snow

Wise Words

These pages, too, are nothing other than talking leaves—their insights stirred by the winds, their vitality reliant on periodic sunlight and on cool dark water seeping up from within the ground. Step into their shade. Listen close. Something other than the human mind is at play here.
David Abram

Winding river, endless mountains— the dark forest breathing mist. There is no road into the sacred place. It’s just that, the deeper you go, the more wondrous it becomes.
John Daido Loori

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Monday, April 01, 2019

Just a Little Sunday Snow

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