Imperfection and struggle at meditation, prayer; in life. Anxiety. Grief. Even anger. Always returning, in all  gentleness  to the practice, the discipline. Trusting  the breath, the Spirit, the Imago Dei within, my Buddha nature   more than  my  own frail efforts, more than the instructions or the service of worship that feel awkward or off.  There is Maitri or Metta, Hesed and Rachem . Sneaking  in through the slivers of silence,  slowly, gracefully the consolations of  Christ, resting in the green valley fed by the depths of the stillest waters,  dark valley in the distance.