“Wind is liberated from the mountain, I is liberated from nothing at all… I’m here because I need y'all, because practice doesn't make sense without you.” - Henry Zander
Henry takes us to the Christian plains of the midwest to regale us with a personal practice story of finding yourself somewhat alone in your own weird wildness only to find the odd ways that singular experience can hone and flourish when shared with a community. How is poetry both a boon and a hindrance to practice? What do we gain and lose when we sit together versus sitting alone? How is it that a practice that preaches ultimate oneness can often leave us isolated and alone?