I remember as a boy standing at the side of a gorge watching the swift, shallow water and a girl standing in it up to her knees. Everything was settled and at peace in the sunlight. As I watched the hills began to sing -- I could hear them as an indistinct choir. Then they began to shimmer and dance. It seemed clear that we were linked -- hills and humans -- in a deep, objective way. And this connection made life true, and my usual fears irrelevant.
If the heart has forgiven and excused,
Offenses will not be remembered.
They are remembered only in the attic, the memory,
Without the heart's participation.
The power of love is in hope, For by it we await the reward of love. The failing of hope is the disappearance of love. Hope is a rest from labors in the midst of labors. Toils depend on it. Mercy encircles it. Experiencing the gifts of the Giver of Life engenders hope. But he who is without experience remains in doubt.
~ from CHRIST THE ETERNAL TAO by Hieromonk Damascene
