“I know what you’re thinking.” 

Actually, she doesn’t. And her summation of what she believed was in my head confirmed that.

But think about it. How can another person really know our thoughts? Most of the time, we ourselves remain oblivious to our thoughts. And to further complicate things, our thoughts are so capricious, as are our volatile emotions.

Hopefully, with progress in our cultivation we will become less judgmental. Not to mention, thank goodness, our growing realization that we don’t always need to be voicing our opinions.

Thus, while others may have some idea of what we were thinking, we’ve moved on. Our thoughts have moved on.

So when we converse with others, we too should give them the benefit of doubt—do not try to read things into their words and behavior. Voicing opinions is risky! We could end up misleading those listening to us. And disquiet the one we’re speaking on behalf of. Besides, it’s really not our place—we’re not their Communication Representative.

We practice to accord with the world, . . .

The meditating mind:

like a petal floating downward 

and settling gently on the ground. 

Imagine a blossom detaching from its tree to begin a seemingly effortless descent to the ground below. But just as the blossom starts its journey, it finds itself caught in a breeze swirling among the trees. And so the blossom twirls upwards, dancing with newfound energy.

As the breeze dies down, the blossom once again finds itself settling. Then, caught again by yet another breeze, it starts another pirouette. This goes on for a while, but finally it comes to rest on the ground.

This is our mind when we chant the buddha-name. As we close our eyes and begin to settle our mind on “Amituofo,” wandering thoughts, breeze- or hurricane-like, carry it first one way and then another. As soon as our “Amituofo” again looks ready to settle, our mind is off again, seemingly beyond our control.

But just as the blossom eventually stills, with enough practice, our mind will likewise eventually become still.