Rain continues to pound down.  It’s like the old days and yet it feels so new after these years of drought.  I was up in the night, listening, opening like the soil and roots to cleansing and renewal.

For me, it slows down thought and talk, opens and clears a wider space.  The temples in the head spread as do the pelvic bones.  The feet land and spread.  

There is clarity in the four dignities: standing, sitting, lying, walking.

I look forward to this new January day.

Kahlil Gibran:

“In much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.”

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