What else should our lives be but a continual series of beginnings, of painful settings out into the unknown, pushing off from the edges of consciousness into the mystery of what we have not yet become, except in dreams that blow in from out there bearing the fragrance of islands we have not yet sighted in our waking hours, as in voyaging sometimes the first blossoming branches of our next landfall come bumping against the keel, even in the dark, whole days before the real land rises to meet us.
Love giving itself, losing itself and finding itself in love, and Love returning to itself, giving itself back in love — this is the eternal pattern of the universe. The nucleus throws out its protons and electrons and they circle round it, held by the attraction of Love. Beyond the molecules and atoms, beyond the protons and electrons, there is an energy, a force of life, continually welling up from the abyss of being in god, continually springing up into the light of the Word, continually flowing back to it source in the bliss of love.
