It is the silence in everything that feeds my spirit.
This silence has so many qualities and always the same quality of depth.
When a tree stands before me, feeding me with the spirit of branch and root, trunk and presence, the silence is the container for this nourishment.
When a spring flower opens before me, the delicacy of its spirit often belies its own fine rooted system of being grounded and nourished through the soil.
When my Friend looks into my eyes, all the ages are held in his gaze, feeding my spirit through his loving eyes.
Those who have read my words feed my spirit in their open response of hearing and reception.
My family feeds my spirit. In their blood knowing of me I am unconditionally being embraced.