After so many years practicing as a psychotherapist, there is a necessary artfulness to continually instill my work with alive presence. One of the reliable constants has been my meditation practice. As a young adult I moved to San Francisco. I loved the city and at barely twenty was in awe of all the possibilities. But I had been on my own for several years already and I was experiencing a sense of displacement that I did not know how to respond too. One day I found myself at the door of the San Francisco Zen Meditation Center, founded by Suzuki Roshi. I had read about meditation and Eastern religions, but I was essentially blessed with simple ignorance. When I entered the meditation hall I felt shy and unworldly.  I chose an innocuous spot to sit. The teacher instructed us in the basics. He guided me  as  I searched for and found my allusive breath and  with this exposed  the myriad distractions as I returned again and again. I don’t recall the specifics but I do vividly recall my experience. It felt like coming home, yes returning after a long time away.  I was still a searching immature young woman but the self steadying affect of the practice gave me a glimpse of what a profound resource was available to me and this was a comfort of great magnitude. This continues to be so.