Friends,
The first Sunday of June. A new month, and nothing required of it except that we show up.
Eight minutes tonight. 8 PM your local time. You do not have to feel ready. Beginning again is the whole of it: sitting down once more, as if for the first time.
Because the practice moves with the hour, it is always eight o'clock somewhere. A rolling wave, once around the Earth, every week.
Come as you are. Even reluctant. Even unfinished. Even begun.
See you later, in the silence.
Dedication: May the first Sunday of June hold whatever we are ready to begin again.
← Previous letter: StayingAll lettersNext letter: What stays →