A quiet mind is all we need. All else happens rightly, once the mind is still.

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A Sparrow's Gift

Sparrows are sweet and stunning, though the earth-tone feathers and their sheer numbers render them ordinary, just as everyday life seems to render most of us ordinary.

If a sparrow lands on your balcony railing and a deep vein of sadness wells up, spilling out of your eyes, it may be an accumulation of sorrow over the failure of accomplishment to satisfy passion and purpose—not that we shouldn't try. We are wired to try.

Eventually, though, a sparrow or some other plain and tender beauty fans the futility of trying to matter. You begin to fathom self worth.


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