All I can get this morning is that every thing around me is a window to the Divine.  Don’t know what the Divine is, but I know it’s there and it’s behind the illusion of the material world.  Like the story that old man (was it?) Plato told about how life is just shadows on the cave wall, and true reality is out there dancing in the sunlight making hand figures.

Thus we make our stories.  So today’s story is that I can set aside the veil of what seems to be and see through the window to the stillness and bright exquisite trembling energy joy that the All That Is shines in the little leaves.  That whatever the Source of all creation, it is panting in my dear old dog standing by the window ready to shout at passersby.  It is in my time-wrinkled fingers clicking the shallow keys.  It will be cheering and squealing on the back of the scooter with me this afternoon, riding in the sun in the crowd in the fun.  Whatever the god-thing is, She really likes to scoot!

Above me, below me, within me, around me, beneath me and through me.  I lean into Her and she leans into me.