Retreat notes (III)
We just sit together. It starts like incense smoke, a fine strand rising straight, direct, unmoving. Without warning it suddenly disperses, broken and scattered in a thousand directions, wildly, freely disappearing into the splendid chaos of what is, unseen, ungraspable, unknown. Then the bell struck twice means it's time to rise. Still, here, I am.
Alexis says:
Alexis says:
Alexis says: