Just returned from a dip into the stillness and quiet of the Tassajara valley. At one point I found myself sitting in the same zendo seat where I sat last fall during the practice period. There’s a fairly large gap in the wooden tan (or platform) there. I was sure I could feel it through my cushion, and this used to annoy me. Like sleeping on a lumpy mattress. This time, though, I regarded the crack with a kind of tenderness. I came back to my room and wrote:
Everything you’ve broken,
Everything broken in you,
For this too,
Gratitude.
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