THE FIELD

AT FOREST’S EDGE

At the forest’s edge, I raise my hands to the sky. Broken and aching, I am not my body, but my body is a map way to all I am.

am all blooms IN THE FIELD

Ask yourself: What does my body feel now? For reality surges through the body, past and future pass away, and aM all blooms in the field.

Welcome what is as it is when it is. For when you go on, your body returns to the field, and you are home again.