If busyness can become a kind of violence, we do not have to stretch our perception very far to see that Sabbath time – effortless, nourishing rest – can invite a healing of this violence. When we consecrate a time to listen to the still, small voices, we remember the root of inner wisdom that makes work fruitful. We remember from where we are most deeply nourished, and see more clearly the shape and texture of the people and things before us.

Even in the middle of a hurricane, the bottom of the sea is calm. As the storm rages and the winds howl, the deep waters sway in gentle rhythm, a light movement of fish and plant life. Below there is no storm.

The last place we tend to look for healing is within ourselves.

Just because we are working hard does not mean we are making anything happen.

What we love and what captures our curiosity draws us forward into some place of great destiny.

To pray is no small thing. It is nothing less than a sacred pilgrimage into the heart of the whole world.

All life has emptiness at its core; it is the quiet hollow reed through which the wind of God blows and makes the music that is our life.