Those who don't want to change, let them sleep.
Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings.
The gates made of light swing open. You see in.
Suffering is a gift; in its hidden mercy
Through love, all pain will turn to medicine.
Whenever they rebuild an old building, they must first of all destroy the old one.