I close my week with this wonderful poem by May Sarton. As I reflect on the week passed, I hope I am left with more questions than answers and the time to luxuriate in the space between the question and answer. I noticed today and yesterday, when I pause and let go, my monkey mind chatter is greatly reduced. It has been helpful.

The phoebe sits on her nest

Hour after hour,

Day after day,

Waiting for life to burst out

From under her warmth.

Can I wave a nest for silence,

Weave it out of listening,

Listening,

Layer upon layer?

But one must first become small,

Nothing but a presence

Attentive as a nesting bird,

Proffering no slightest wish

Toward anything that might happen

Or be given,

Only the warmth, faithful waiting,

Contained in one’s smallness.

Beyond the question, the silence.

Before the answer, the silence.