For some minutes my mind knows only a silent stillness within, a meditation without effort, a celebration of occasion. Slowly my vision focuses on a bird of red-streaked, chocolate-covered feathers and bright orange beak... I have been watching her a long while now without registering, labeling or defining her particular condensation of being, taking her as much for granted as she appears to take me. So beautiful. So natural. A bird in a tree.
Gratitude is the vision of the Giver, not of the gift. It comes from God. Hope and fear are like the two wings of a bird when it is flying straight to its destination. If one wing fails, its flight fails and if both fail, it dies. Hope is the vision of God in perfect beauty.
