In the way that I experience life, the physical world is really just the tip of the iceberg of reality. Whether it's trees or stones or water or animals or stars, everything has an ineffable interior quality.

I looked a hundred times and all I saw was dust. The sun broke through and flecks of gold filled the air.

To walk quietly until the miracle in everything speaks is poetry, whether we write it down or not.

As the seed buried in the earth cannot imagine itself as an orchid or hyacinth, neither can a heart packed with hurt imagine itself loved or at peace. The courage of the seed is that once cracking, it cracks all the way.

What is not ex-pressed is de-pressed.

I would want to affirm how rare and magnificent and messy it is to be alive, how there is really nothing between us and life, though so many things get in the way, and how our heart is the strongest muscle and resource we have.

Rather than finding heaven on earth, we are asked to release heaven by living on earth.