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Joaquin and I live in a meadow alongside one of the world’s most stunning rivers, the South Fork of the Smith River in the Siskiyou Mountains of Northwest California. We walk a mile over a ridge on a foot path to our home.

Covid gave further permission to be my introverted self. I was quite content to be home, less pulled by the world. When summer came and the usual flow of our annual visitors did not happen, I felt restless. I realized it wasn’t so much their company that I missed. I was enjoying a quieter summer. I was missing hosting people in this place that seems to calm and inspire a settling back into one’s self. Sharing the sweetness that is here.

There’s something about the deep emerald pools, and clear running water that restores one’s faith by a purity that has no words. I’ve witnessed myself, and so many others be struck by the river’s beauty. She’ll take your breath and thoughts in an instant, and grow a wide spacious place inside.

It gives me great joy to watch people unwind and tune into this well inside, an honor and delight. Some aren’t sure what hit them. Others know exactly what it is, and quietly sit in it’s presence. Through this experience with others, I am reminded that I am continuously infused in this beauty… a matter of remembering.

These months have brought fresh gratitude. Gratitude for Joaquin, I feel carried by his steadiness and flow of love. A solid partner to negotiate the anxiety and concern of our world. I am deeply grateful to be under his wing. And for my fate to have brought me here to this place we call home.

And above all, my gratitude to Ācārya and all of my teachers for the education and guidance in this life.