by Sharon Kunin, Minnesota
Maybe a little like meeting God, through feather, fur, or fluttery thing. To be judged not for words, but by the timbre of my voice. Not for ability, but by gentleness of my touch. And not for knowledge, but by the Light that shines from my eyes. To be loved for the nature of my heart.
By Sri Harold Klemp
“Eppie” and her adult son hadn’t seen eye-to-eye since his youth. But after years of ECK study, Eppie realized that it was her anger and her temper that had caused this rift between her son and herself. There was more, but her anger played a big role.
By Dana Lovell, Minnesota
One morning, my friend Karina and I did a spiritual exercise that contains the question, What do you know as truth? (See the Contemplation Seed at the end of this story.)
By Tammy Attama, Virginia
With joyful anticipation, we picked up our new puppy! She was a few months old, gangly, and adorable in the body she had yet to grow into. Our family fussed over her and made her feel welcomed; however, her excitement did not match our own.
By Peter Akpokodje, Lagos, Nigeria
Recently I have been thinking about the reason we exist in this world. I kept the thought lightly on my mind. I wondered, What is love? What is my purpose?
By Sri Harold Klemp
Every night when I go to bed, a mockingbird sings outside my window. He works an incredible shift that seems to last all night long. Each night he repeatedly goes through his entire repertoire of about twenty different songs.