12 Dec A Quiver in the Heart

I spent last week in silence at Spirit Rock—my annual retreat.

Many people ask why I choose to step away from words, to let go of the noise of daily life.

No phones, books, music, or journaling.

The answer is simple:

In silence, I find clarity.
In stillness, I hear what is often missed. Inward, I find joy.
It’s hard to describe,
so here it is, captured as a poem.

This is the upper meditation center at dusk before I entered silence. This was the only photo I took.

Peacocks, Persimmons, and Practice

Four silent retreats,
each one a stepping stone,
each one a gentle unfolding
into a tender space within.

We began on warm meditation floors,
our bodies grounded on berry-colored cushions,
the stillness holding us steady.
Before any movement,
before any breath,
there is the mind—
restless, noisy, aching for stillness.
To meet it with patience,
to sit with its edges,
brings a quiver through the heart—
an awakening, a stirring,
a quiet invitation to open.

This is the work—mettā,
to soften, to send,
loving friendliness to all.

On my mindfulness walks,
I discovered 12 hidden Buddhas,
tucked into quiet corners,
as if waiting to be found,
each one a reminder to pause,
to breathe, to see.

Peacocks moved with grace among the golden trees,
wild turkeys roamed freely,
a coyote stood at attention,
a young deer paused and grazed,
while a white crane, graceful yet primal,
ate a lizard in the stillness.
Above it all, the stars stretched themselves
across the vast sky,
weaving their silent stories.

Meals became a meditation,
each bite, a hymn of presence.
Sweet persimmons,
a reminder of life’s simplest joys.

In the deep silence,
the edges of myself softened,
the mind grew quiet,
and the heart opened wide,
ready to meet the world once again—
with love & joy.

Wishing you all the very best,