Friends,
The last Sunday of June. Half the year is behind us, and most of it was made of ordinary days no one will remember.
Eight minutes tonight. 8 PM your local time. This is not an anniversary or a milestone. It is just a Sunday, and those are the ones the practice is really for.
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 plain. Even tired. Even here.
See you later, in the silence.
Dedication: May the ordinary weeks be held as gently as the marked ones.
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