Properly understood, the bliss which we seek is everywhere - is always given - and cannot be had more or less (or better) in any other place.
Give attention to that form that most resonates within you and know that it is face of God revealing itself.
The deer in moonlight are hints of the divine.
The turtle scaling a fallen tree in the middle of the pond.
The fox licking its kits to sleep (which I only imagine).
That which is God - which is eternal and infinite - is bound to reveal itself.
Our longing for revelation its its longing to be known, the two longings forming a circular movement that excludes no thing.
When you are of the center that is everywhere, she says, then the question of what to seek does not arise.
The answer is given to the one who is ready to receive it.
I make corn tortillas for the kids, pile them with eggs and salsa, leaven the tea with milk and honey.
She eats with us happily, calling the children "my little birds."
To be visited in this way is to learn that we are all guests.
The inclusivity contemplated by Jesus is still essential.
Service is still essential.
There is a way to walk in the middle of the day and perceive every blade of grass giving praise.
And the robin and the oriole giving praise.
And the bluets and the voles.
The barn merely divides space in a way a now-gone builder perceived effective.
There are centuries-old nails in the brook, and tracks of deer in the garden.
One opens the interior gate and perceives the invisible path forged by the ones who went before and left a trail.