When scientists or mystics look deeply into what seems to be emptiness or space, what they find is some kind of presence. Quantum physics now tells us that particles emerge out of so-called emptiness, out of pure space. We can eliminate all particles from a given amount of space, such that the space is seemingly devoid of anything whatsoever, and

We are delicate creatures, as mammals go, and we have compensated with cleverness and an extraordinary ability to adapt to or to change our environments. Nevertheless, the shadow of death hangs like a pall over our every activity, our every tender moment.

In the observable universe alone it is estimated that about one hundred such solar systems are forming every second.

A mind released from self-obsession and limiting beliefs is freed for fascination, for wonder, for love.

When our attention is not wearied by neurosis, it is free to hover around whatever strikes its fancy, be it barnacles or silent immersion in being.

The preferred experience—and the truest—is that of the mysterious.

Being content with the mystery is somewhat rare, it seems,

If we are not bringing joy to a circumstance, our service is questionable. We may be trudging on like good soldiers, but it is not inspiring. When we are awake in delight, our very presence is encouraging.

But true grace is an attitude of acceptance and appreciation for whatever comes our way, the hardships as well as the joys. Grace is the openheartedness that whispers “okay” while everything is falling apart.