Sitting on the upper slope of my backyard at twilight, suddenly one realizes that on a vaster plane of being, nothing in or of this earth happens that does not move through my entire body or being. In Alaska a shard of ice breaks free - I am there. The smallest creature form in Africa registers its dream in my life’s intricate web. Somewhere in the South Seas the currents of warm winds touch quiet pure atolls in the fauna and flora of my mind. How can this be true? Yet somewhere in the Vast mystery of my heart it is so. The first movement of all life is love.
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