Sitting with Original Love: Wisdom, Love, and the Organism of Now

Thank you for listening to UPAI's Dartmouth Podcast, an extraordinary series of talks from some of the finest teachers in the world.

I'm Joan Halifax, founder of the UPAI's End Center, and we're happy to make these podcasts available to you.

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This is Dharma Podcast at thermapodcast.org.

This is episode number 2583.

It was recorded on February 14th, 2026.

And it is part 6 of a multi-part series titled,

Sitting with original love.

This episode is titled Wisdom, Love, and the Organism of Now.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

The speakers for this episode are Henry Shokman and Joan Halifax.

Nicole, thank you so much.

I really wanted us to hear and be in that music because you didn't way exemplifies the two wheels.

One is what it means to be a standing stone for the world and to actualize bodhicitta in our lived experience in relation to all kinds of others.

And then, of course, Gate Gate is gone, gone, gone beyond, gone far beyond wisdom is.

And that wisdom intersecting with love and bodhicitta is what these hours together have been about.

How we can touch into these two dimensions is one expression in our lived experience, not as theory, but in actuality as we meet each thing in the world, each moment, the stars as we walked in.

And you raise your eyes in the southwest and you see the skies and the gleaming light from distant stars, planets and galaxies. It's so beautiful.

So, Henry, I'm going to invite you to start and if you don't mind.

I will, I will, whatever you wish, I'm happy. I'm happy this time.

Go for it.

Actually, just because of what you were just saying, I think I want to share a poem.

Yes, okay.

Okay. So, Rochya, I want to thank you for asking me, but I want to share a poem.

Because as you were just talking about looking up and seeing the stars in such a beautiful place, I had a little micro, little whirlwind of two ideas.

One was, oh my gosh, how fortunate to live in such a beautiful place.

And that took me to a time recently when a very, very, a maximally dear and close loved one was in a lot of trouble.

I was living in California in the suburbs, in the suburban sprawl of LA, which was not a place I'd ever thought I would spend time in.

I mean, it may sound horribly privileged to me, but I just happen to grow up in a beautiful city, Oxford, and I then happen to spend chunks of my childhood in the countryside.

And I got to form a connection with hills and oak trees and particular fields and meadows, particular streams.

I was very, very fortunate.

It happened to be the summer I was 14, happened to be this such an exceptional summer in England that it's still talked about.

It was truly a summer I kid you not when it did not rain for ten weeks.

And that was unheard.

The last happened in 1747.

And I was 14 that summer.

And what that meant was that it was beyond being allowed out of the house, was please get out of the house from my mum.

And I had a little gang of friends that would remorph, it just kind of stayed, because we had this old cottage that had a big attic, and the attic was ours.

And anybody above the age of 16 did not want to go and look at that attic.

It was just mattresses on hardboard, and so five friends could come and stay whatever.

But what we did was we just, we donned a backpack and napsack really each of us, and did the thing we'd been bursting to do for at least two years, which was walk out into the land with our little backpacks,

with a sleeping bag, with some newspaper and a box of matches, pack of the sausages.

Actually, as I start enumerating it, it wasn't just nothing.

We also had a pack of tea bags, we had a little, we had to have a pack of sugar, because you couldn't really have tea without sugar, and a loaf of bread.

That was about it. And we learned to just wonder, and to get to know that land, and to become intimate with that land, to the point where I knew that once I came round this out of this little cops, there was going to be this particular camber in the field.

And round that camber, there was that rock, the grass was worn away because of the cattle, and then round that, there was the spring.

And I knew them in my body, and we had a little dog, we had two beloved dogs, and one was the daughter of the other, and the way that came about was that one summer.

A few years before, there was a tramp who used to come and stay in our valley. Actually, he came every summer, and he had a couple of dogs, a lurcher and a terrier, which are helpful if you're living off a land.

And his terrier, and our terrier, the older one, cavorted all summer long, and my mum said, we got to know him a bit, speedy, he was gone, said, if there are puppies, I'd love one.

And sure enough, at the end of that summer, there was a knock at the door on a windy rainy night, and there was speedy in his huge, overcoat tied with a long length of yellow rope, I remember it well.

And he opened up the front of his coat, and pulled out a little puppy, and she was called Annie, and she was delightful.

And Annie's mum, for the first week she was with us, every day she would appear at our house, and speedy was putting up in an old ruined mill, a mile and a half away.

And she just came. There wasn't any of this suburban, urban business of dogs going for walks. She just, it was her life. She just came.

And she came, and she checked up on her puppy, she knew where she was, she let her suckle, and she trotted out again, and was gone for the rest of the day.

And she did that every day for a week, and the last time she came, she appeared and looked in the house, she knew exactly where to go, and how to get in the back door was always open, trotted across the floor, and Annie didn't get up.

She just looked at her, and the mum looked at her, and trotted out again, and didn't come back.

She sort of knew she was okay. She didn't need her anymore. But Annie, when we went out on these expeditions, me and my friends, we would insist on coming.

The other dog, he kind of was more of an urban dog, and he'd come out a couple of hundred yards of earth, and he'd sort of stop and look at us glumly.

That thing, I didn't know if I could come, and then he'd trotted back to the house, but she just came cavorting with us.

But we were out for days, on end, and we didn't have a tent, you didn't need one.

It was so amazing, in England, not to think about a tent. It was just, and you could see the stars every night.

And she'd sleep at the end of my sleeping bag, she'd sort of sit up until we were all asleep and then curl up.

And she knew the land. She just knew it, and I recognized that she was so at home there, because she'd known it in her earliest weeks of life.

And it wasn't a cognitive thing. It was very much like, well, you've been talking about, we've been talking about the non-cognitive, implicit, and sort of vivid experience of non-separateness.

The land and her were written into one another. And she kind of was teaching us a bit how to do that, how to get glimpses of that.

Anyway, so hence, lucky Henry, I got that experience of land love, and that's when I started writing poems.

Actually, that's when they began. There was something about the land being open to it, it allowed the force of a poem.

It wasn't that I decided I wanted to write poems, which I'd done earlier. No. These weren't poems that I decided to write. They just came.

And I was lucky if I could get half of them down, you know, and just enough of it that I knew the real thing was there, because the real ones were not really written by this Henry, who was making decisions about what to do and how to live his life.

They were written by, obviously, some part of this, the makeup of this, but it wasn't the part that I had control over.

It was something more wild. It was something more beautiful and wild, and frankly, more powerful and more important than me.

And it was an incredible initial introduction to something like practice, to knowledge and honor that I wasn't my own little princeling of this world, of my ideas of this world, at all.

Something more forceful, more powerful could come through and shock me. It wasn't that I was writing such amazing poems. It was just that some power would come through and say what it wanted to say.

And it was better than what I would try to say, in my fumbling, stumbling, careful, nitpicky little way. All the ones I tried to write were just dead on arrival.

But the ones that I'd never thought of writing, and I didn't write because I thought I wanted to write something, those were the ones.

And it's the same today. Anyway, Jing Jing Jing, all that is...

Hold on, hold on. I just want to bring us back to what I spoke about earlier today. Zenky, undivided activity.

Our experience is embedded in the organism of this moment, anyway.

I love that, I love that. Somebody asked me the other day, they were feeling despondent. They said, what's it all for?

What's it all for? And I was sort of stuck, I was sort of, oh, I have no idea.

But then actually a moment later, I realized I wasn't trying to be clever or smart, art or spiritual or anything.

But I just realized I did have an answer. And the answer was, this. It's all for this, just this.

But did you tell them?

Actually, I said, I said, if I remember rightly, what I think, the only answer, is this.

That's okay. It's for this. Is that okay? Is that okay?

And to see.

You're not supposed to tell that.

Oh, I see. The A plus is, don't say anything.

They're supposed to tell you.

Yes, you're right. Well, it wasn't a student, it wasn't a student. Still.

Okay. Anyway, I wasn't saying it like it's true. This came to me.

I don't know what the answer is. But this is what came to me. I can tell you that.

Anyway, look, I'm going. Can I go?

Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on.

Everything I've been telling you was actually just background to the fact that I didn't want to go and live in suburban Southern California.

And I had to. And I had to.

And I had to. And I had to. I had to. And I loved it. I loved it.

I had never known what a morning in California really was.

Every morning the light, that rich light coming through the trees, that rich light coming through the blinds.

Suddenly, there's this great painting on the wall of orange light.

And it's the first stirring of day. And the shadows in the morning in California, how beautiful they are.

And not only that, but my gosh, we were only a short drive from the ocean.

A little wiggle through many a street. Many, many stop signs, traffic lights.

And you wound up on the ocean. And I used to go every morning early before dawn or at dawn.

And just kind of be by this vast vastness and usually get in. It's when it's quite chilly actually.

And then I would, before I knew it, you know, I was kind of busy then.

It was actually at the time we were beginning to work on, well, I was doing a lot of that improving of my manuscript for this book original love.

A lot of hard work. And then suddenly I was having to undo all the work I've done.

So there's a lot of work on that. And I was working with an agent quite intently.

And also we were starting to talk about the app that we built. So there's quite a lot of work on.

And I'd get out of the sea. And here I am. The broad beach. The great ocean.

And yes, a little bit of Catalina out there. And then just the vast ocean.

And mountains behind over the rooftops. If it's a clear day hovering that immensely beautiful.

But I'm already, you know, out of here driving, getting back coffee work.

Before I know it, not actually lifting up my eyes and taking it in.

So this is a poem called Slow.

The other me moves slowly.

He looks at things a long time until he understands what he's looking at.

Like this morning in the sea down by the broad beach.

Early when the sun had just risen and was bright like oil on the water.

And the water itself was dark purple, almost black.

And it was the sea's surface. And it was the sea's surface, the seeming thickness of it like animal hide.

Moving, breathing in its big slow rhythm that caught his attention.

It seemed heavy like a blanket being shaken in slow motion.

Its colors and folds lit by the morning sun.

He was studying it. He was enjoying it, learning from it.

When already we were showering off at the public's bigot and towering dry and getting in the car and into the traffic.

And he was still staring back, trying to see the sea with the great light written across it.

Which wanted to show him who he really was and his place in this world.

Something he was always happy to learn again and again but someone else.

Someone thoughtless, heedless, busy had already taken him away.

I mean, that's what we're dealing with. That's what I'm dealing with.

That kind of basically stupidity in a nutshell.

This gift, you know, this gift. This gift, nah, fuck it, I've got something put in it.

Excuse my language. In the center. I can have to wash my mouth out again.

What will it take?

Another concussion.

Another heart surgery.

How do we stop squandering this?

Exactly. How many accidents do we need to stop stumbling and falling?

I'm Richie, as he said earlier, heartbreak can actually be a great help.

And we've touched into it in our time together. This deep well that opens up through sorrow.

You know, I think the Buddha was heartbroken.

I think Tiktok Han was heartbroken.

I think it's holiness, the Dalai Lama has been heartbroken.

Henry, are you going to read a poem?

He just did, darlin. That was it.

And you know what? He didn't have to read it. He lived it for us.

So I wanted to bring us into a reflection.

And Wendy, who were in Costa Rica, heard me speak about this.

Because I think it's so important to consider at this time as we've been exploring what it is to be not do or seek original love or original intimacy.

And I was sharing in the teachings I was giving in Costa Rica this tender and exquisite discovery.

One day I made in reading James Hillman.

And I realized that there was nothing greater or lesser than intimacy as I was reading Hillman.

And I saw so clearly that in sort of going back to Henry's book of the ends before ends that this experience of becoming intimate with this in this moment

with our mind and heart and body familiarizing ourselves with the landscape of now as it is.

And seeing again going back to this term of Zenky of being embedded in this organism of now.

And it's an organism that is in constant change and has no self identity.

It's really unnerving because you're looking through the lab of your own experience to discover that you don't matter.

The organism is teaching you that you're not writing the palm. The organism of now is writing the palm.

And it can only be written when you become transparent to who you really are, which is as Henry has been unfolding for us, which is original love.

What wrote that poem was original love.

What writes my high coup that are so stupid.

What I write the madly is original intimacy or original love.

It's when the small self suddenly finds itself in a kind of elevator going whoosh.

And the organism of now then reveals itself. And you are in the marination of the organism of now.

And in that experience of the exploration of one's own foolery of subjectivity, reality becomes transparent to you.

It's kind of this magic thing and you hear it in Henry's poem or in Jim Harrison's poem.

There's some kind of truth that all of a sudden you are there in the organism of that now, which was then, but he has evoked it and brought it to us and we are in it now.

And when reality becomes transparent to you, it is only through the experience of intimacy, of non-separateness.

The two wheels, or we could say the relative in the absolute, are transparent to you.

So that's the second transparency. The first is becoming really transparent to the fact that we are both these kind of failures.

We score love on the success quotient, but we still are there with our brokenness and also our beauty.

And then when that transparency is there for you, then reality opens up to you. You see, oh, the organism is riding the poem of now, or the haiku, or making the baby, or wandering in the weir, or weeping over the death of your cat.

Or feeling your mother's body reconstituting in this now.

That is the organism of now, which includes the past and the future, the organism of now, and it becomes transparent to you.

And then when that happens, this third transparency opens.

And again, put a Henry on the spot, because I'm so glad you're open to being teased, honestly.

Well, first you'll let me know if you have to get into therapy because of our interactions, I know I've gone a little too far.

But what is miraculous is this kind of third transparency. And that is your transparent to the world.

And what I was talking about last night, being so sick and understanding that original love was something that I was actually being drawn into, like being drawn into a cool, clear pool of water.

And that I had no defenses in that situation. In fact, it was kind of worse than that because I couldn't even wipe my own ass.

It was really interesting to be so completely raw and vulnerable and naked and shaking and transparent to others.

There was not even a micron of defense that I could hide behind that would kind of keep my so-called pseudo-dignity in place.

The real dignity actually unfolded in the interactions that people were having with me as they took care of my body.

And I realized that dignity arises out of mutuality when we are completely defenseless, open, vulnerable.

So there are those three transparency becoming transparent to who you really are.

The second transparency of reality becoming transparent to you, you see, wow, now organism.

And the third full and their intersecting, of course, is this kind of miracle of where there is nothing mediating, not conceptuality, not identity, not a sense of separate self.

It is only this kind of transparency to the world.

Forgive me, you've heard this last week, but I kind of live this teaching as a rubric, you know, the kind of call for the continual excavation of my delusions, aspirations, hopes and fears in terms of this small identity.

It's ongoing work, and I really love what Kaz Sensei talks about, hey, Dogan, continuous failure.

It's continuous failure.

What the thing you know, if you have ever sailed, you cannot sail a boat from one port to another in a straight line.

Everything is context dependent. The wind, the water, the rudder, the boat, the heft of the boat, the waves, the tides, you, your hand, the pull of the moon, the darkness of night, the spill of light on the skim of water.

You cannot go directly. You are constantly changing course. There's no straight line.

The wagon wheels are constantly turning in relation to the landscape through which they are passing.

It's not like a highway.

You know, it's not like our asphalt roads. It is an experience of responsiveness to now, the organism of now.

So I wanted to share that little teaching I apologize for repeating.

But anyway, as I said, it is a kind of world that I live in eternally as the measure of my honesty.

How to or honest am I being with myself in now, now, right now.

What is it to live by vow, which is all about relationship, context, trustworthiness, faith, uprightness?

How does training this mind and this heart and the body to be honest?

It's really important question that I have to live with, you know, as a person who's a little out there but aging and finding another life.

Like, for example, I love your body thing. So it's so great.

So I attained my ideal weight. When I came back from Stanford, I had wanted to be this weight for decades.

And I began to realize it felt awful. It was so interesting.

It felt awful to be that weight. Like I was 130 pounds. And things were sort of slipping around, you know, on my bones.

And I had no energy. And I was at the weight I've been dying to be at for 50 years.

Yeah. It was just like, wow. And it was awful. And I began to eat.

Well, actually, my beloved Wendy started insisting I eat. And at first, I totally wasn't into it.

Over the summer, I couldn't eat. You know, I just wanted like a little rice.

At one point, I thought, I'm a piece of fried chicken. You know, it's funny.

And then food caught my wind. And I've just been eating life, you know, just like every pound that goes onto my body, I welcome it.

You know, it's like, thank you, body. Wow. I'm in the organism of now. And I can meet now because I have more energy and have to meet now.

So sometimes you realize what you think should be is a trap that you have been tricked into by the rubric of society and the expectations of your gender.

And so much of the work, whether male, female, non-binary and all the other, is the work of actually deconstructing those structures and living by the vow to be deeply honest to what will bring you more into the organism of this moment.

The key is also letting the world see into you, including your weaknesses, your foibles, which is why I've been dying to hang out and teach with Henry because we have these dinners that are tragic.

Really?

No, they were that bad.

They're pretty upsetting anyway. I thought I was going to walk away from Henry's dinner with Henry and we'll be in a loud Mexican restaurant and I just feel like throwing myself on the ground and weeping.

It's really awful.

Ask you out to dinner again.

Well, you pay, so please do ask me.

But in any case, that's what friends are for, actually.

It really makes a difference.

We're able to sit in a loud Mexican restaurant and eat quesadilla and to feel completely broken-hearted for the other person.

And to realize it's the chips that are connecting you in a certain way.

There's the blockamole between you.

You know, he picks up his chip and I pick up mine and we dip it and we look at each other and I realize this is a human being.

With a deep life sitting across from me who's been through so much, if you've read his one blade of grass, it's just like, oh my Buddha.

And it doesn't let up. That's the other thing.

That is really important to realize.

You sometimes trick yourself into thinking it lets up because you have an addiction that keeps you unaware.

You think it's let up, but it is not let up.

Because you are constantly working the equation of honesty of what it is to be a true human being.

Not flat, not in the dolders, but transparent to the world.

So, Henry, I love you.

I love you too.

Thank you.

We've had a long journey.

It's been quite a number of years.

With different twists and turns.

Indeed.

Different chapters.

It's been really quite a cool book.

It's not right about it though.

So I wanted to share this perspective as we reflect with Henry's extraordinary poetry.

And I think now what I'd love to do is to open up the floor in the great Mahasanga and our floor.

To hear a little bit about as we have been exploring these four inns, the two wheels, the three transparencies, the eightfold path.

You know, it's all about numbers.

To hear what do you on this Valentine's Day thinking about St. Valentine who actually Claudius II was a nasty Roman fellow who really wanted to keep throwing, you know, the men of Rome as cannon fodder for his ugly wars and thought that if he prevented people from marrying.

His boys would leave home and offer their lives for the glory of the kingdom, so to speak.

And Valentine, this is the kind of apocryphal, but went around and married.

And he was thrown into jail, into prison, because he was breaking the law, which by the way, I'm glad for some of our politicians who were breaking the law and Don Lemon, thank you.

And he wrote to his jailer a note to be passed to the jailer's daughter, older daughter, from your Valentine.

Well, I don't know if it's true, but that is kind of the story that is told.

What is the Valentine that might have come up for you or not in our explorations today?

I just encourage you to raise your physical hand and virtual hands and let's hear from each other and Richard and Simon wise on have like so first in the room.

Okay.

Yeah, Karen.

Thank you. I guess I would say what's supposed to live has been one of the sense of organism of the moment that's a wonderful thing to take with me, but it brought to a whole what began with Henry's meditation.

That sense of the past all the times, all the places I've sat through this long life and known moments of you can call it original love or original intimacy, the deep still must ago that that is there.

It's been through it.

It's been present.

Long before I had any languaging for it that I can use now that and this incredible invitation that the poem is a deal with the shy self, the Henry the I mean that it's this invitation to get to become intimate with that Karen.

I just feel this deep invitation to be friend to get to know to become intimate with with that one.

Thank you.

Beautiful.

Karen, thank you.

Beautiful.

In the room.

Nicole.

Nicole.

I had a different kind of love experience.

You were asked really reflecting on that all day like what is my earliest memory of feeling love.

And there's got to be a moment with my first dog, my parents, my friends, my grandparents, but actually nothing really coming to mind except.

This moment must have been probably nine years old laying in my bed and just feeling like I could feel the earth move and that that was always there.

I think that really was my first feeling of like really true safety home.

And this real deep relaxation that there's like this, you know, gravity's like a hug.

And so I just thought I'd share that because it feels different than the other beautiful things we heard.

Thank you so much.

Gravity's like a hug.

Yeah.

Oh, that's just, you know, I think we could all feel it as you said it.

Thank you.

And Wendy.

You're unmuted.

Caroline, you're unmuted.

Oh, thank you.

I feel incredible for this idea of the shy one in my own practice for whatever reason.

I have a kind of a difficult time landing.

And I will often set up my practices.

I'm thinking about kind of making opening a door for my little person to come in.

And I've had the kind of blessing of having a dear friend as a teacher who has helped point to energy and how energy moves.

And that has really given me a lot of allowance to be able to drop down and trust that.

And from that is created a really deep sense of intimacy between me and her.

And I'm noticed as you both are talking that I can feel that sense of intimacy between the two of you and how that's come through dialogue.

And that feels really hard belts and really an important part of this kind of divine love that I really appreciate as a result of the practice.

Thank you.

Well, thank you so much, Carol.

Beautiful.

And in the room back back there.

Say your name.

I'm Susan from Brooklyn, New York.

Like you Nicole, I was very disappointed in myself to not have that first impression of love.

My parents were the dog.

Was it a boyfriend?

Was it high school?

And actually was thinking about this morning as I was writing.

And I remembered acutely that when I was nine years old, I had a very good friend and we had a swing set.

And we would swing as high as we could.

And we called this game heaven on earth.

And the deal was that we would kick off from the swing, we would hit the air, we would fly and land and Prince Charming would be right there.

And then we take the position of this.

And make noises and go, hmm, I love you, I love you.

And we would play this game over and over again.

Heaven on earth in which we'd like the wind would just take us through the air and we'd know we'd land and he'd be there.

And that was it.

This invented kind of can make that face.

Because it was an escape reality.

It was everything that we didn't have.

And we could have.

So it was an imagined liberation.

So it wasn't the boyfriend or the marriage.

It was pure escape and pure finding it.

And we could do any time.

Oh, that's just so beautiful.

Thank you so much.

Okay.

Kathy.

Yeah.

Hi, I'm Kathy Bishop.

I'm in California.

And I'm really feeling the love of my grandmother, my popo, who came to went to Hawaii when she was 16 years old from China.

And she was such a devout Buddhist.

So I'm just really feeling like the stream that is coming through you got from her, through you to me.

And she always told me that my godmother was Kuan Yin.

And she prayed to Kuan Yin when I was born a sick baby.

And then she was always praying for me for loving kindness.

She said loving kindness.

And she's had an indoor outdoor altar and outside altar.

And I think she's just really, really happy and just loving everybody now.

Because, you know, you're sending it all out to us.

So thank you.

Bless your popo.

Yeah.

Know his mother, known as popo right now.

Okay.

Yeah.

So thank you.

The most precious and powerful art types in our Buddhist practice is the image of grandmother.

It's grandmother's heart.

And that's just what you shared with us.

You brought your grandmother's heart to all of us.

Thank you so much.

So friends, I'm going to ask Henry to lead a brief meditation to conclude our evening.

I just want us to know the shape of tomorrow.

That practice will be at seven as usual.

Breakfast will be at eight o'clock.

And then at nine o'clock we'll gather.

We together learning, working, practicing, playing,

more music, please.

Makes me happy.

To eleven.

And then at eleven, Henry and I, and Kodo and Dinan will move to probably the R-Hot Room or some quiet room

and meet with all our Mahasanga between eleven and twelve.

So the Mahasanga will not be with us from ten to eleven.

Because we'll just be, you know, in the room, just our onsite.

And then eleven to twelve will be just with our online family.

And then for all the rest of us, we will come together for our final lunch at twelve.

At twelve thirty.

And just continue to celebrate and enjoy and watch me eat.

No.

Sorry.

That's nice.

Henry, I have so much love for you.

I mean, really.

Thank you.

Foybles and all.

Well, I think the thing is, I trust you.

I have definitely become more honest to myself these last few years.

Therefore to others.

I don't really have much to hide, at least that I know of.

But maybe stuff I'm still hiding from myself.

But what I know of myself, I'm pretty open about it.

Yeah.

I feel much better that way.

And I really don't care about enlightenment.

Well, at least.

Sorry to say.

I think I'm probably much less enlightened than before and I'm much happier.

And I don't give a damn.

Anyway.

Somewhere I've got a poem about that.

I didn't bring it.

Anyway, should we have just a little five minutes?

Yeah.

Five or ten minutes.

When do we need to end by?

Almost.

Yeah.

Kind of now.

Okay, very short.

Okay, folks.

I mean, the main thing is to get comfortable.

Let your jaw relax.

Let your jaw un-sling.

Let it settle.

Let the jaw actually slide forward and down.

And won't go very far.

A millimeter.

And let that be the cue for the whole body.

Oh, body.

Releasing.

Let it go.

And let the body show you what this day of practice together has left in you.

Let it show you what this day of practice together has been for you.

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

You

May all beings everywhere be well.

You

You

You

You

3ations are not the less,

I am out to begin.

The light is the star,

the light is the star,

the light is out to transform them.

The reality is endless,

I am out to proceed with it.

Midway in prayer as answer passable.

I am out to my ears.

4ations are not the less,

I am out to free them.

4 Divisions are in just so.

I am out to transform them.

Reality is on the list, I love to receive it, Your way great is unsurpassable, I doubt

her body yet, creation is on the list, I doubt to free them, delusions are in the

list, I doubt to transform them, reality is on the list, I doubt to receive it, Your way great is unsurpassable, I doubt

is unsurpassable, I doubt to provide it, Thank You Henry, thank You Rosha, I doubt, thank you so much, thank you so much