There is a day in my memory when I sought to be understood by all, speaking loudly so they might hear my name. I filled the valley with my voice, believing it was kindness to share my light. The crowd gathered, nodding as if they held the truth, yet their eyes were hollow, looking only for what I could give them. I felt a terrible pride bloom within me, like a weed choking the soil, and I realized I had traded my silence for noise, my emptiness for a full cup that would soon spill.

Now I ask you to sit quietly in your own corner, far from the roar of the many. Do not try to fill your hands with their gold or their praise. Let your mind be still as the water at the bottom of the river, dark and deep. When others rush to build towers, let you remain in the low place where things grow. Be willing to look like you have lost everything, for it is only there that you find the whole world again.