Forty-four men and women are stretched out along the shore line, facing the ocean and quietly waiting for the moon to rise. Earlier, we had walked in single file onto the beach—the women first, and then the men—each one striking the singing bowl to signal our willingness to be truly
here. We had moved through a cloud of incense gently offered by several smiling women, and then spread out, each to find his or her own spot on the sand. Each to land somewhere, alone and together, and to move into that space of deep, silent communion.