Besides the Orlando Massacre, rarely am I emotionally affected by terrorism. It’s so frequent and seemingly distant, I shake my head with a nod toward sadness and continue with my day.

At a Quaker meeting, often the first person to speak will set a trend for the rest of the meeting. As I walked to the meeting this morning I had the thought that I hoped the first to speak wouldn’t bring up the Sri Lanka massacres as I feared the whole meeting would become very heavy.

And, kind of unexpectedly, the first to speak spoke of her immense gratitude. In 1973, on Easter Sunday, her young daughter woke up one day and asked, “Mom, why don’t we try out a Quaker meeting today?” The mother agreed, she’s been a Quaker since, and she said it changed the trajectory of her whole life. Hence, immense gratitude. Then she sat down and the meeting returned to silence.

The next to speak was an old women, and, with a quivering voice, she sang a beautiful song. It seemed to me to be a very old song. She sang of springtime and plum blossoms, of joy and beauty. Oooh! That shaky yet confidant voice really opened up my heart.

The next three folks to speak continued to add to this theme of Easter, flowers, beauty, and gratitude, and when each was done the meeting would fall back into silence and my heart would open more.

At the end of the hour I was feeling quite lifted and very open. I might say that my energy was flowing nicely inside. And with just a minute left to the meeting, the last to speak stood up and said plainly, “May we hold the people of Sri Lanka in the Light as they’ve suffered so much death and pain today.”

And the meeting returned to silence.

My heart was so open, and the meeting so uplifting, and with the hard reality brought to us at the end, the contrast was so great that I was moved to tears. From so high to so low! For the first time, other than Orlando, I cried for a massacre.

The meeting was so beautiful.

And after I headed to Oakland and worked on building the Temple of Direction, which will be at Burning Man this year. I am finding it so curious how at-home I feel both at the Quaker meeting and at the Temple building.

When finished, I took the train, which goes under the ground and beneath the bay, back to the city. It was so darn full of people, such diverse people, peacefully belonging, and everyone sat so quietly. And I had the thought, “Is there any difference between a Quaker meeting and a train ride?”