After the one extravagant gesture of creation in the first place, the universe has continued to deal
exclusively in extravagances, flinging intricacies and colossi down aeons of emptiness, heaping
profusions on profligacies with ever-fresh vigor. The whole show has been on fire from the word go. I
come down to the water to cool my eyes. But everywhere I look I see fire; that which isn't flint is tinder,
and the whole world sparks and flames.
Like a river flows life, strong and deep and filled with fast little eddies. Letting go is part of life's definition, and receiving is part of letting go. We could, in security or comfort, cling to each bend in the river, hold on to each boulder along the way. We could shackle ourselves with old conflicts, or bind ourselves with past loves, wanting always to linger in familiar scenes along the way. But the river flows on. And the God of the river sweeps into our view new mysteries and holy places to hold us for a moment, then to see us safely on our way.
