“And I thought / how I meant to live a quiet life / how I meant to live a life of mildness and meditation / tapping the careful words against each other . . .” —Mary Oliver
On a quiet Sunday morning, a small group of introverts and contemplative types gather in a circle for two hours to ponder a single poem together. Our contemplative practice ebbs and flows like the tide between silence and speech, solitude and community, the poem a gravitational force.
When we slow down and really pay attention, something intriguing tends to happen.
When we slow down and really pay attention, something intriguing tends to happen.
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