Befriend Every Guest at the Door
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Last year, at the start of my three-month retreat, I woke up deaf one morning. Prescribed steroids, it would be six weeks before I could have an MRI to confirm whether there was a tumour. For years, I had been the one to counsel and encourage others during illness and loss. Now, alone and in silence, could I walk my talk? I fought to maintain the simple rhythm of each day, cleaning, meditating, ch…