Friends,
It's the last Sunday of April. Everything that was waiting is now in full leaf. Everything that was buried is up.
Forty years ago this weekend, a reactor in Ukraine failed, and the world learned something about what the wind carries. Today, elsewhere, someone's garden is in bloom. Both are true on the same Sunday. The practice doesn't ask us to pick which one.
Eight minutes tonight, at 8 PM your local time. Not to remember and not to forget. Just to sit, with the full weight of April in us: the green and the grey both.
Come as you are. Even numb. Even tender. Even unsure which of them you are.
See you later, in the silence.
Dedication: May grief and greenness both be held today. May the wind carry nothing but peace.
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