I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…In life after life, in age after age, forever.My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,In life after life, in age after age, forever.Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain,Its ancient tale of being apart or together.As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:You become an image of what is remembered forever.You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.At the heart of time, love of one for another.We have played alongside millions of lovers, shared in the sameShy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell-Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in youThe love of all man’s days both past and forever:Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours –And the songs of every poet past and forever.

Love itself does not hurt. It is the illusion of its absence that brings pain. Love is always here, always flowing, seen or unseen. The paradox is that we grieve for what has never left.

Nigel Lott teaandzen.org

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Once a man came to me and spoke for hours about 'His great visions of God,' he felt he was having.He asked me for confirmation, saying 'Are these wondrous dreams true?'

I replied, 'How many goats do you have?'

He looked surprised and said, 'I am speaking of sublime visions and you ask about goats?'

And I spoke again, saying, 'Yes brother -- how many do you have?'

'Well, I have sixty two.'

'And how many wives?'

Again he looked surprised, then said, 'Four.'

'How many rose bushes in your garden? How many children? Are your parents still alive? Do you feed the birds in winter?'

And to all he answered.

Then I said, 'You asked me if I thought your visions were true. I would say that they were if they made you become more human, more kind to every creature and plant that you knew.'"

-- Hafiz

Waiting

The song I came to singremains unsung to this day.I have spent my days in stringingand in unstringing my instrument.The time has not come true,the words have not been rightly set;only there is the agonyof wishing in my heart…..I have not seen his face,nor have I listened to his voice;only I have heard his gentle footstepsfrom the road before my house…..But the lamp has not been litand I cannot ask him into my house;I live in the hope of meeting with him;but this meeting is not yet.

teaandzen.org

There is a sacred homecoming that unfolds when you return to yourself…..not one marked by grand gestures or external validation, but a quiet and profound awakening. It is the slow shedding of all that is not yours to carry…..the unraveling of false identities, the soft release of inherited burdens, the deep exhale after holding your breath for lifetimes.

To come home to yourself is to remember that you were never truly lost. Even in the seasons of forgetting, even when you wandered far from your own soul’s voice, you remained……waiting, watching, holding sacred space for your own return. It is a divine invitation to step gently across the threshold of your own heart, to find within it a sanctuary untouched by time, always welcoming, always whole.

Coming home means surrendering to the beauty of becoming, making peace with the unfinished, the imperfect, the unfolding mystery of who you are. It is a tender embrace of both your light and your shadow, a recognition that every part of you belongs. You need not prove, strive, or shape-shift to be worthy—you always were. Worthy of love. Worthy of joy.

This path is not without its trials. It winds through dense forests of old conditioning, past echoes of voices that once defined you. But as you move through the illusion, (and anything that is not love, will always be an illusion appearing real) for love is the only truth. As you untangle yourself from all that is not true, clarity emerges. The noise fades. And in the sacred stillness, your own voice rises like a prayer.

Home is not a place, nor a destination…..it is a remembering. A return to the eternal knowing that you belong to yourself. That you are enough. That you have always been whole.

Nigel Lott teaandzen.org

For when you feel much maligned and hurt by another’s behavior.

Music ‘In Touch’ Joesph Beg

Take a break from what you are doing, find a space, cup of tea in hand, and dedicate the next ten minutes to Love.

Please sit and remember in the well of your spiritual heart all love deep and abiding, and let it flow from there to all sentient beings where-ever they may be, that all beings everywhere be free from suffering.

“May your heart be forever held in the embrace of light and love, guided by the whispers of eternal grace.”

Nigel Lott teaandzen.org

Can you see it? Emanating from the Source of all creation….Love…..the luminous thread that weaves thought, word, and deed into the grand tapestry of existence.

Yet, in this process….if integrity does not guide the hand, if honor and courage do not steady the heart, if humility….deep and abiding…..is absent, then what is made is but a whisper in the void, fleeting and forgotten.

True creation, the kind that breathes life, must be steeped in compassion and kindness. Without them, even the grandest works crumble into dust, their essence lost to the winds. Only when the soul moves with reverence does the harvest of creation fall upon fertile ground, blossoming into something eternal.

Nigel Lott teaandzen.org