A story from Sri Swami Satchidananda Years ago, before there was an ashram in Virginia, Gurudev—Sri Swami Satchidananda—was sitting beside a small brook with several students on a quiet property in Connecticut. As they watched the water flow over the rocks, a single leaf drifted downstream. For a while it moved effortlessly with the current….
I enjoy walking wooded trails whenever I can. There is something about trees that seems to slow the mind without asking anything in return. One morning, I noticed that nearly everyone I passed wore headphones. Some were listening to music. Others were talking on the phone. A few looked down at a screen as they…
“Wisdom doesn’t enter a crowded mind.” One of my favorite Zen stories tells of a professor who traveled to visit a respected master. The professor had spent years studying philosophy and religion. As he sat before the teacher, he eagerly described everything he had already learned. Every few moments he would pause, only to begin…
Sometimes the truth isn’t absent. It’s simply hidden from view. There was a morning in Vermont when I stepped outside with a cup of coffee before anyone else was awake. A thick blanket of fog covered the lake. Beyond it were mountains I had admired every day of the trip. That morning they had vanished…
There is a pond not far from where I live that changes throughout the year. In the spring its water is so clear that you can see almost to the bottom. Fish drift silently beneath the surface. Reflections of trees and clouds appear as though painted upon the water. Then summer arrives. The pond slowly…
There is something about sitting beside the ocean that has always quieted my mind. Recently I found myself watching the waves roll onto the shore and then disappear back into the sea. At first I simply watched the rhythm—the endless rising and falling—but before long I began noticing smaller things. Tiny grains of sand were…
There are mornings when a lake becomes so still that it reflects the entire sky. Clouds drift across its surface. Trees stand quietly along its banks. Mountains appear as though they rise from its depths. Looking at it, it becomes difficult to tell where the world ends and the reflection begins. Yet even on days…