Meditating this morning, sitting in the silence of a newly fallen blanket of snow. How can there be such complete silence and simultaneously such noise in the world? I can feel the chaos, I can feel the damage being done, the fear radiating out around us. And yet, here, in our forest, the newly babbling water of our little river is the only sound.

Following the guidance in my daily meditation book by Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening, I breathe in and tighten my grasp on two stones – one a crystal given to me by a friend after my Mom recently passed, a stone for transformation; the other, a pebble from our river, green and black, that has for years now represented my “future self”, the self I aspire to be, from a silent retreat with Tara Brach.  I breathe out and open my palms and my heart, releasing the constriction, feeling the power of breath to still the mind and calm the heart.

How can my simple practices affect the whole? How can my being be a force that reaches beyond my small place in this teeming world of life?

Reflecting on this, I thought about Saturday, yesterday. Our local church, with its sadly declining and aging membership, hosted a pianist to play for our community. A few years ago, he and wife, a violinist, decided to stop traveling by air to reduce their impact on the environment. Instead, they made a commitment to “play every town in Vermont” and donate any contributions to local environmental causes. He researches the town beforehand and engages with a local musician to join the concert to develop his program. He played Mozart to represent the time of the town’s founding and year the church was built. A local accordionist, whose mother had played piano in our church for 50 years, played a song he wrote for his wife. And they played songs that spoke to our winding roads and ragtime roots. It was beautiful and moving and, incredibly, filled our pews completely with over 100 people.

Following the concert we hosted a dinner, by donation only, and fed our neighbors for over two hours. The musicians played more songs, and I even danced a waltz with the pianist! It was truly a joyful afternoon and evening. Everyone felt uplifted, proud of our place in the world, and happy to be together.

I didn’t do much to make the event happen, but I helped clean the church, baked cake, and served our neighbors for the meal. But I was a part, a part of the whole that realized something uplifting and meaningful. Indeed, I am a tiny, infinitesimal YET essential part of the whole.

Sending gratitude to all my fellow well-keepers for this surround of heart-awakened beings, doing exactly what we can, where we are.