Our morning is filled with more landmarks to reach Apalusa, Louisiana.

Go past the house without the roof, turn left at the post office, and go past the metal with the cows.

When you see the fork in the road, go straight,

or else you'll end up on the wrong side of the train tracks.

When we arrive within a day, I look up into the dark, wide base of Antiola.

The place marker that said we were from Louisiana,

even though we were born in California. She's the marker that said we were from Louisiana, even though we were born in California.

She's the marker that confirms the shaping of our image into the land on which my father and

mother were born. She's the one who holds the same memories as Daddy. I can't take my eyes off this cold black woman with soft black hair,

who is Louisiana herself, poet, ordained Zen Buddhist priest, teacher and artist.

And the Zen tradition she's in the lineage of is one I hold very dear, one which emphasizes simplicity, clarity, wisdom and

beginner's mind, the mind of many possibilities not yet constricted by certainty.

She gives us a beautiful, poetic read of a story she wrote that transports us way back to her childhood. It is full of

light, light which points us back to ourselves. In this series, we blend immersive first-person

stories with mindfulness prompts to help you restore yourself at any time of the day.

I'm Rohan and I'll be your guide on this episode of meditative story.

From time to time, I'll come in ever so briefly with guidance as you listen to the story.

Some prompts may help, others may not, that's okay.

And now on to the story.

The body relaxed. The body relaxed.

The body breathing.

Your senses open, your mind open.

...