A bird in flight
a midnight meditation
How do I see a bird on the wing, when there is nothing present but bone, sinew, blood, feather, and air?
Not even that, not even those. All of it, I ascribed to it — when the sole presence of both the witness and that witnessed, is simply the indescribable miracle of the simple majesty of being.
—
Words and image by Andō.
Thanks for your understanding the absent Sunday meditation this week — life’s been quite a ride. Enjoy instead, this midnight meditation I wrote at the cusp of Tuesday and Wednesday.
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