I went to Seven Arrows, my friends' beautiful retreat center in Jersey, for Summer Solstice. We sopped up every sweet drop of the longest day on Saturday: Chanting in the sunrise from the dock, stretching in the green grass, eating, savoring, offering, making, burning, loving, sitting by the water under twinkling stars... It was very fine. Then on Sunday, a little stillness. Reflection. Space for whatever wanted to land—just like a butterfly—to land. To be, for a little, then fly away. Longing, melancholy, deep contentment... and just... birdsong.
I picked up my friend's guitar in the yoga studio. The window and doors were wide open onto the grass and trees. My friend lay on the wood floor. I played and hummed whatever came. It felt good.