May you grow still enough to hear the small noises earth makes in preparing for the long sleep of winter, so that you yourself may grow calm and grounded deep within. May you grow still enough to hear the trickling of water seeping into the ground, so that your soul may be softened and healed, and guided in its flow. May you grow still enough to hear the splintering of starlight in the winter sky and the roar at earth's fiery core. May you grow still enough to hear the stir of a single snowflake in the air, so that your inner silence may turn into hushed expectation.
No sooner had I fallen asleep than I saw standing a maiden dressed in a long white gown and modestly girded. On her head, in hooded fashion, was a white scarf which was so thin and transparent that through it I could see her face, which shone with heavenly beauty. She stood before me, tender, affectionate and loving, and although with downcast eyes, she would at times humbly and kindly look at me. With such a vision, I awoke.
My attraction to her was not sensuous, but somehow pure, devoted and unutterably comforting, since my soul sensed that this was not an earthly maiden, but some heavenly being, the very embodiment of purity and charity.