Meditation with Shaman's Drum Mind Muting Madness Golden field. Fingers grazing sepia grass. Last strands of summer. Autumn arriving. Wind that mutes all sounds, even you can't hear the wind herself. Like time stood still, static humming.
"If we are a drop of water and we try to get to the ocean as only an individual drop, we surely evaporate along the way. To arrive at the ocean, you must go as a river. The sangha is your river. In our daily practice, we learn to be a part of this river. We learn how to look with sangha eyes, how to walk with sangha feet, how to feel with a sangha heart." - Thich Nhat Hanh
Mind is all fired up at the moment after sitting with Tea. Words. Words. Words. Drip. Drip. Drip.