within nature, to primal people the Earth is not Other.
Road Trail is not a path, but a raff of steep stone steps.
After she left, for weeks I couldn't face the trail we had walked together, the place by the creek where she had danced for me, the ways we had opened to each other. Now stones disappear beneath rising waters, trees reach their full height by brushing aside the sky. Or is it the wind?
It will take generations of teachers educated in science and the natural world to steer humanity’s plow through waters polluted by the failures of our political, religious and cultural institutions. From where will a new unselfishly creative generation appear?
The genius of surprise epiphanies is the Mystery at the core of our Being. It is how we survive, in spite of the mess we make.