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.
At first her refusal to speak very often upset me, but over time I've grown used to it and now love her the better for it. Ivy May's silence can be a great comfort. There is nothing the matter with her head – she reads and writes well enough for a girl of seven, and her numbers are good. I asked her once why she said so little, and the dear replied, "When I do speak, you listen." It is surprising that someone so young should have worked that out for herself. I could have done with the lesson – I do go on and on from nerves to fill the silence.
