A Single Crow
  This morning, a single crow squawked away in the big Live Oak tree that overhangs our house. After a while, a fellow crow joined it, and then another and another until there was a cacophony of crows, all squawking simultaneously. Suddenly, like one organism, they took flight, and the morning returned to stillness.
  You are drawn into the stillness, and as you listen, the listener disappears. There is tremendous beauty in stillness, the beauty of dying to what is, without manipulation by thought or desire. The whole world, the universe, is in that listening and love is the death of the self.Â