Peace is not made through theory. Too many people die in war. This grief, this pain can still be felt. No matter how loud one cries, this way no peace can be achieved. The flowers of the meadow, the small insects have life. Each life has to be respected; Where else should peace come from?
I sit on the front porch of our cabin and "listen" to the complete silence. It's so quiet that when a bird flies past, I can hear the air passing beneath its wings. Gradually I become one with the silence and my heart opens to the joy of life. During the winter, when we don't live at the cabin, I visualize sitting on that porch as a way to "stop" the hustle and bustle of my day-to-day world.
