On a clear winter morning, just as the sun rises high enough for its slanting rays to shine horizontally through the trees ~ I lay my track through the snow -- a silent listener awaiting Being. And Being responds. I move so silently and swiftly that deer, rabbits and weasels are surprised and caught in their inner lives; so swiftly and silently they do not flee but stand out in their beings... The earth more present, the sky more present, I, the human, more present in total awareness.
I looked at the gentle blue-eyed Englishman and asked him how he managed to meditate and concentrate in such a noisy, busy place.
"It's not difficult," he replied. "I simply incorporate the sounds into my meditation. It becomes a kind of rhythm. It doesn't disturb my peace and quiet at all."
I recognized that the quiet place, the sacred place, has to be within the person first of all.