About Heart Sessions

Hello all. This blog is intended to honor the group meditations initiated by Tom Sawyer, now carried on by friends of his since his passing. Being physically spread out as we are we have agreed to sit down in our own homes at the same clock time, 9pm EST on Sunday nights. We sit for at least 20 minutes, although sitting for longer periods is no problem if you so choose.


There is no specified technique for these meditations. Precisely prescribed actions sometimes become unauthentic and what is meaningful for one person may not be for another. So if you choose to assist you may use a favored technique or listen within, apply self-honesty, and allow growth. There is no political or economic agenda involved. There are no dues or dogma. The essential point is an honest willingness to help.


Each week there is a suggested focus as posted on this blog. We previously had been using an email list but now, through the kind assistance and generous guidance of Barbara Whitfield and Donald Brennan, we have the pleasure of this blog forum. Loving thanks to you both. Comments may be left by clicking the "Leave Comments Here" link below each post.

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Sunday, May 29

Connection...

Hello all, this just popped up for me. It's completely out of season but speaks to the sense of connection we all need in these times. When the time is right, you might have some friends quietly hum Silent Night as you read the words out loud. 
Bless you all,
Richard

Christmas Evening, by Paul Stookey

And it came to pass on a Christmas evening
While all the doors were shuttered tight
Outside standing, a lonely boy-child
Cold and shivering in the night.

On the street every window
Save but one was gleaming bright
And to this window walked the boy-child
Peeking in saw candlelight.

Through other windows he had looked at turkeys
Ducks and geese and cherry pies
But through this window saw a gray-haired lady
Table bare and tears in her eyes.

Into his coat reached the boy-child
Knowing well there was little there
He took from his pocket his own Christmas dinner
A bit of cheese, some bread to share.

His outstretched hands held the food and they trembled
As the door it opened wide
Said he "Would you share with me Christmas dinner?"
And gently said she "Come inside."

The gray-haired lady brought forth to the table
Some glasses two and her last drop of wine
Said she "Here's a toast to everyone's Christmas,
And especially yours and mine!"

And it came to pass on that Christmas evening
While all the doors were shuttered tight
That in that town the happiest Christmas
Was shared by candlelight.

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Thanks!
Richard