The Tao, they say, is All That Is.  Here, there, everywhere; inside and outside, we swim and are made of the Water of Divinity. So I sit in the warm room listening to the sleet on the porch outside my window and there is no division between us.  I sit in comfort and goodness and when I walk out–all bundled up in the cold–I am at One with Goodness.

I breathe in the air of mystics and saints, the inhalation of endless oneness with the Daughter of Spring, Father of Winter, Son of Autumn and demon/angel protector, the Bastard.  All gods of all seasons bow to the Oneness, the chords of infinite variety of music that these spheres sing us.

Oneness, oneness, oneness.  Nowhere to flee for saving, no desperate plea for relief, no pounding on the breast of mercy–just here and now, there and then, everywhere, all the time warm and comforted in the embrace of Her Love.