Be completely empty. Be perfectly serene. The ten thousand things arise together; in their arising is their return. Now they flower, and flowering sink homeward, returning to the root. The return to the root is peace. Peace: to accept what must be, to know what endures. In that knowledge is wisdom.
I know in my cells that prayer permeates a sick body, makes it
shimmer as the new life comes in, making the cells remember
how to respond to the harmonic whole. Music is like prayer
a mystical bridge between heaven and earth.
