Deep winter nights definitely encourage and evoke inwardness and stillness—a chance to stop and reflect on what's vital. In deep zazen we devour the breath and the breath devours us. There's no separation. The barking of the neighborhood dog devours us. The sound of traffic replaces us. The cell phone in the other room rings in the center of the mind. We light lights and come together in gratitude for each other and for being alive. We're pretty sure the sun's long days will return but what about this planet? What about us humans and the blind devouring we do so brilliantly at the expense of others? We're sophisticated when it comes to manipulating the physical world but so primitive when it comes to living together in peace on this great earth here in deep space (see photo above). And this time can also be hope's rekindling--that this silent night is indeed a holy night. That all can never be lost. After all, our true nature—buried here, realized there—and shared with coffee grounds, supernovae, maggots, and ferns, is unborn and undying.
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