The broken door lets in the light. The broken heart lets in the world.

Four hundred year old trees, who draw aliveness from the earth like smoke from the heart of God, we come, not knowing you will hush our little want to be big; we come, not knowing that all the work is so much busyness of mind; all the worry, so much busyness of heart. As the sun warms anything near, being warms everything still and the great still things that outlast us make us crack like leaves of laurel releasing a fragrance that has always been.

The glassblower knows: while in the heat of beginning, any shape is possible. Once hardened, the only way to change is to break.

We need to give up what no longer works and find new ways of being that keeps us close to what matters.

Each of us carries some wisdom waiting to be discovered at the center of our experience. Everything we meet, if faced and held, reveals a part of that wisdom.

Anything or anyone that asks you to be other than yourself is not holy, but is trying only to fill its own need.

To love by admitting our connection to everything is how we stay well.