The Art of Inheriting Secrets

by Barbara O'Neal

His grin flashed, and for a moment I forgot what we were doing. It was a wide, beautiful smile, with good strong white teeth, teeth that had been well tended, given braces and routine checkups, but it was the way it changed his face that made me nearly stumble, as if someone had flung open the curtains in a dark room, allowing sunlight to come flooding in. A generous, genuine expression.

I’d never been able to get comfortable with sitting meditation, but cooking and sketching and walking gave me the same feeling I’d heard others describe. Wordlessness, focusing on the moment, letting go of the crazy voices all vying for attention.

“You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water,” he said. “Is that a quote?” He nodded. “Rabindranath Tagore. He’s a great writer. You should read him.”

falling far away into the other lands where the sleep spirits knitted me back together.

You’re afraid. And you cannot have a life of great meaning if you make decisions out of fear.”