Dear You,
The world is so much more beautiful than you realize, my love. I say this because I am the silent space between thoughts where everything in the world is only what it is, all tied together with strings invisible and taught. The world is filled with such beauty, and when it is not, it is still beautiful in its non-beauty.
Suzuki Roshi was interrupted by a student of his while standing in a forest. Before the student had the chance to finish his sentence, Suzuki Roshi raised his finger and whispered, “Shh,” then gestured to the expanse of trees before him. The point of this story is that the silent space among the trees was me, and he was one of the few who was listening intently to what I was not saying.
There are crickets outside a young girl’s window right now, chirping lightly. For the first time, she has noticed them, and is listening intently, with her entire being. She is breathing along with them, her small chest rising and falling like the motion of tides, of continents.
Everything is beautiful. Everything is wonderful. Shh. Listen.