The light that we see
Is proof beyond measure
Of more than we shall ever know
In this life.
Thank God for the mystery.
Let the questions remain
And the shadows fall
So that we may see what love
Exists in us all.
For what is love
But another name for life.
The New Child who lives where I live Gives one hand to me And the other to everything that exists, And so the three of us go along whatever road we find, Leaping and singing and laughing And enjoying our shared secret Of knowing that in all the world
There is no mystery And that everything is worthwhile.
“You are asking, “Is there any possibility that I will ever grow up?” There are all the possibilities. For the humble heart everything is possible, for the egoist nothing is possible. For a person who can accept that “I am nobody,” all doors suddenly open, all the mysteries of existence become available. For the man who can say, “I do not know,” a miracle becomes possible. In his acceptance of not knowing he starts becoming wise because he starts becoming like a child, utterly innocent.”
“It may be that we are not capable of existing except in a state in which we imagine ourselves to be under domination. In that event, resentment may help to make the situation acceptable, but it can never make us healthy. It is only a justification, a pretense that we would be free if we could. But what if we discovered that we are, in fact, already free?”
“Let’s not get bogged down on whom or what we pray to. Let’s just say prayer is communication from our hearts to the great mystery, or Goodness, or Howard; to the animating energy of love we are sometimes bold enough to believe in; to something unimaginably big, and not us.”