Day 6 of our monthly one-week Zen winter meditation retreat greeted us with crisp air and a fresh blanket of snow. The Sangha ventured out for the morning kinhin, each footstep sinking silently into the powder and dissolving the boundary between practitioner and landscape.
Inside the zendo the wood stove crackled, incense mixed with the scent of pine, and the stillness of winter deepened every round of zazen. As flakes drifted past the window we were reminded that impermanence – like falling snow – is both gentle and relentless.
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