Of meditation (from Juana la Cubana)
I have built a tiny chapel in the woods. A quiet place to meditate.
I face the east and pray. Noone interupts me. I sit and meditate. Noone cares because their plans are interupted by my insistance on spending time with God. At some point in my life I became blind to consequences. I chose to ignore obvious outcomes of my decisions. I suffered for it later. Here I purge that suffering.
I have built my chapel on the side of the sleeping volcano, but only a few paces up. I have yet to explore the top of this mountain. Perhaps some day I will fly with the birds up there?
A few minutes restores me, refreshes me. I must go more often.
I face the east and pray. Noone interupts me. I sit and meditate. Noone cares because their plans are interupted by my insistance on spending time with God. At some point in my life I became blind to consequences. I chose to ignore obvious outcomes of my decisions. I suffered for it later. Here I purge that suffering.
I have built my chapel on the side of the sleeping volcano, but only a few paces up. I have yet to explore the top of this mountain. Perhaps some day I will fly with the birds up there?
A few minutes restores me, refreshes me. I must go more often.
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