April 5
Do not seek the master far away, nor in the temple of stone. The heart that acts purely is the place where the sacred dwells — character itself is the sanctuary.
Songs of Kabir (freely rendered)
Listening mode
Do not seek the master far away, nor in the temple of stone. The heart that acts purely is the place where the sacred dwells — character itself is the sanctuary.
Some spaces take part of your bearing off your hands. In a reading room you lower your voice of your own accord; at a funeral you choose your words more carefully. The place sets out what is fitting, and you follow it almost without deciding anything yourself.
That isn't hypocrisy. Such places remind you of something you otherwise easily forget. But they have doors. When you walk out, their claim on you ends, and sometimes your care ends with it.
It gets harder where nothing is set out for you: late in the evening, when you're tired and someone asks the same question for the third time. No room hushes your voice here, and no occasion calls for solemnity. How you answer depends only on what you consider right with no one to guide you.
A place like this has no opening hours. You can't leave it to recover somewhere else, and you don't have to go looking for it either. It lies exactly where you happen to be tired.
Perhaps you answer a little too curtly. This time no one told you how quiet you should be.
