Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings.
Bright but hidden, the Self dwells in the heart. Everything that moves, breathes, opens, and closes Lives in the Self. Self is the source of love and may be known through love but not through thought. Attain this goal!
The modern habit of doing ceremonial things unceremoniously is no proof of humility; rather it proves the offender’s inability to forget himself in the rite, and his readiness to spoil for everyone else the proper pleasure of ritual.
The blossom of love will make the air fragrant; the river of love will murmur along the valleys; and every bird, beast and child will sing the song of love.
