What I have been given to do seems small and quiet to me, and I seem to myself to be small and quiet — an unknown entity — and I never expect to write a book or do anything in any way that makes me a Particular Someone amongst pagans.
In my Buddhist practice, none of it is done for anyone else to witness. It’s a concept I’m accustomed to; the point is not to Be Someone, but rather to locate Yourself. What you do with yourself as a Buddhist is shown in all of your behavior. But it’s better — and they even say so — to be unknown, often, than to be known. Many important monks and lamas have begged their superiors to be allowed to go and practice alone, only to be told that they must stay, to show others the way.
I don’t know who would look to me to show them the way toward anything, but while I content myself with my quietness, my relative invisibility, between my traditions, both make me available. Open. They both tell me to open my hands.
But when we encounter one another. If you came to me. If something else happened. It isn’t for me to go looking.