Our job is not to expose the mystery but to participate in it.
I looked a hundred times and all I saw was dust. The sun broke through and flecks of gold filled the air.
No amount of thinking can stop thinking.
Even if one glimpses God, there are cuts and splinters and burns along the way.
The life of expression is the tuning fork by which we find our way to the sacred.
Even when clouds grow thick, the sun still pours its light earthward.