O Silent Meeting, starting with a sigh
Of helpless awaiting for God's Presence there,
Each one alone, together sit, and I
Of my own breathing in and out aware.
The breath of God doth move within my heart
As surely in, and out, as that of me.
The Seed there needs to breathe if it's to start
To grow, to act within my life, to be
As breathing can't in life be hurried much,
So, too, the Seed will take its breathing space.
And, giving over will, desire, and such
I wait, expectant, bound to time and place.
Our mingled breathings fertilize the Seed,
And help us grow from Inward Light to deed.
The symbolism of a sacred mountain is full of intimations of meditation. It is a state of strong immovability, of perfect balance; a state in which all motion hangs suspended, not in death or inertia but in that great stillness that is the origin and resolution of all things... Any mountain that is sacred is a symbol of the Centre: that point where divine reality impinges on profane reality. The true Centre, the real seat of the great mystery of ultimate reality, resides in our heart.