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The heART of Ritual



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It’s that time of year when the call of winter invites us to retreat here in the northern hemisphere. To rest deeply into the boundless nature of being and sit quiet and listen to the deep silent wisdom that is the heart of everything.

The old Zen monk Ryokan wrote;

My house is buried in the deepest recess of the forest Every year, ivy vines grow longer than the year before. Undisturbed by the affairs of the world I live at ease, Woodmen’s singing rarely reaching me through the trees. While the sun stays in the sky, I mend my torn clothes And facing the moon, I read holy texts aloud to myself. Let me drop a word of advice for believers of my faith. To enjoy life’s immensity, you do not need many things.


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