Each age has its own task...Our hermitage is the act of living with attention in the
midst of things: amid the rhythms of work, and love, the bath with the child, the
endlessly growing paperwork, the ever-present likelihood of war, the necessity for
taking action to help the world. For us, a good spiritual life is permeable and robust. It
faces things squarely, knowing the smallest moments are all we have, and that even the
smallest moment is full of happiness.
To stop is to go towards, to come closer to oneself, to awaken from the sleep of life. Only by stopping can one begin to see. The moment we stop, we begin to see the miraculous, the unknown, the uncharted.
In order to wish to be present, I must see that I am asleep. "I" am not here. I am enclosed in a circle of petty interests and avidity in which my "I" is lost. And it will remain lost unless I can relate to something higher.
I need to understand that by myself, without a relation with something higher, I am nothing.
I can escape only if I feel my absolute nothingness and begin to feel the need for help. I must feel the need to relate myself to something higher, to open to another quality.
I believe I need to pay attention, when in fact I need to see and know my inattention.
As I am, I cannot keep from being lost in life. This is because I do not believe that I become lost and do not see that I like being taken. I do not know what it means "to be taken."
The first effort is to awake, in order to see ourselves as we are in our sleep. We believe that to awake is to enter into an entirely different life, which will have nothing in common with the one we lead. But, in fact, awaking means, above all, to awake to ourselves as we are, to see and feel our sleep.
