Notes from my 3 day retreat: The wind blows my hair in front of my eyes. It sways the grass and tree limbs. My lips are dry. The mountains in the distance do not move. The one cloud between the mountains and me constantly changes shape if you watch it closely … now a baby sleeping on its back with arms and legs bent … now a turtle with its neck extended … now the turtles head floats off to the left and slowly disappears. Are we too like a cloud … our change constant and visible if we look closely? Can others see my internal change? How the tears of grief this morning washed away an old sorrow … leaving me a different shape.