I am reading Thurman. Outside our home one sees bare trees against a landscape of white snow. Maybe this is the gift of winter: that practice of being present to every sacred moment as it unfolds, maybe it is burrowing deep into the now and finding what it is that is asking to be born in us this new year. And then letting go of everything else.
“I abandon all that I think I am, all that I hope to be, all that I believe I possess. I let go of the past, I withdraw my grasping hand from the future, and in the great silence of this moment, I alertly rest my soul.” –From Deep is the Hunger by Howard Thurman
