I believe in the goodness of imagination.

Now and then sprays of rain flew over and misted our faces. Every time I refused to wipe away the wetness. It made the world seem so alive to me. I couldn't help but envy the way a good storm got everyone's attention.

When had my fear of broken plates gotten so grandiose? My desire for extravagant moments so small?

Have you ever written a letter you knew you could never mail but you needed to write it anyway?

I realize that I can be with someone, but on a deeper level I'm not available to them at all. I have attention deficit disorder of the soul.

The words were unexpected, but so incisively true. So much of prayer is like that - an encounter with a truth that has sunk to the bottom of the heart, that wants to be found, wants to be spoken, wants to be elevated into the realm of sacredness.

The body knows things a long time before the mind catches up to them. I was wondering what my body knew that I didn't.