We seat ourselves so that we are evenly spaced from one another and begin to meditate. In my own meditation, I see how I have tried to control a situation in which a friend wanted to participate -- a situation that was actually beyond my control. In retrospect, I recognize that the presence of my friend has been a blessing. In gratitude, I realize that I must always be ready to shift and adapt, for in rigid resistance, I might miss my greatest opportunities.
The silence of meditation is not the silence of a graveyard; it is the silence of a garden growing. There is no deadness in a garden, but in that all-pervading silence an intense activity is going on in the ground which will later take form as buds, blossoms and fruit. So, too, in meditation there is not a blankness, but a rhythmic activity of the Spirit. As the mind exhausts itself the Spirit comes through, and we are in the realm of heaven. True, we are still on earth, our feet are solidly on the ground -- the holy ground of spiritual awareness.