How terribly the rice suffers under the pestle! But it emerges polished, as white as cotton. The same process tempers the human spirit: Hard trials shape us into polished diamonds.
~ from A PRISON DIARY by Ho Chi Minh in AFTER SORROW by Lady Borton
You are above me, O God You are within. You are in all things yet contained by no thing. Teach me to seek You in all that has life, that I may see You as the Light of light. Teach me to search for You in my own depths that I may find You in every living soul.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours. May the clarity of light be yours. May the fluency of the ocean be yours. May the protection of the ancestors be yours. And so may a slow wind work These words around you As an invisible cloak to guard your life.