I can’t summon up anything to write about. It feels so very strange to say that. I am sitting here trying to process what has happened. Six months ago I received a healing from a holy man. On February 1, the woman who introduced me to him died. Now I feel such a stillness and am restless at the same time. For I do not know what to do with the quietude I feel.
The leaf fell from the tree. That is one supposition. And I am not the leaf but the tree. Could that be true? Does it matter?
The old machinery is still operating in the basement. It will go on until I die. That is the nature of things.
Between these lines I live my life. So quiet. A bowl of soup. A piece of cheese bread. A slice of pie.
Tomorrow I am going to kirtan and it will be a beautiful thing. I am grateful for this time of awe.