The following talk was given at the Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, California.

Please visit our website at audiodderma.org.

And as a And that's maybe something to be a support for our practice this morning.

I just want to read this short poem, something that might give you something to ponder or practice with

or might point to something that's helpful as you practice this morning.

This poem is called Strange Balance.

It's by Rosemary Tramer.

Strange Balance by Rosemary Trauma. Strange Balance by Rosemary Tramer.

And it goes like this.

When the boy is sneering or the glass is breaking or the woman is weeping or the

streets are crowded with anger and rage it's hard to believe a small joy has any real value. Hard to believe a single red Gerber

Daisy or a cup of grapefruit scented tea might have any relevance,

could bear any weight on the scale that measures what it is to be alive.

But last night, while I was steeping and worry, aching with injustice, my daughter created a stage between the threadbare couches and hummed

herself a soundtrack as she leapt and spun and shuffled and flapped.

And oh how her brief flare of joy changed the flavor of the night. An improbable balance the way even the smallest amount of sugar

transforms the bitter sauce

the way just one note resolves a minor chord. The way the

barest hint of rain makes the whole desert erupt into bloom.

A strange balance by Rosemary Trauma. I'll read it again.

When the boy is sneering or the glass is breaking or the woman is weeping or the streets are crowded with anger and rage,

it is hard to believe a small joy has any real value.

...