I was meditating on one curious idea this morning; it just popped up—that everything—the rain, the sun, the trees, the wind, the birds, the animals, the human beings—everything inside and around me—wants to reflect itself in me. I don’t know where this idea came from, but it enveloped me like a spiritual hug.

I am learning that the truth was right here inside of me, where it has always been, not outside of me, where it has never been and is not now. It felt like I was enveloped in a soft mist, a pillow. I only need to be still, I heard myself saying, and things will reveal myself in what Thomas Merton once called “the still waters of our heart.” It is beautiful down there if I can only be silent and listen. I love this idea.

I felt I had discovered my Kingdom of God, deep inside me, speaking to a softer, gentler me, perhaps even a kindler world. “We are always provided for,” a friend messaged me.

I spent too much of my life worrying about the future. I was not alive. My meditation has become a resurrection; I am returning to life, bit by bit, day by day. I’m off for the rest of the day until tomorrow.