Mystery

It's called “a mystery” because...well, it's mysterious. An eternally, infinite unfolding from the silent unknowable into the material known, only to return to a silent unknown. Our fear of this mystery brings us misery, our loving acceptance of it brings more love-light into the world, changing everything around us. We struggle to give ourselves entirely to this mysterious unfolding, acting as if life were a dance – two steps forward, one step back – trying to make sense of it all with our senses, when it's our senses that are befuddled from the start.

That which cannot be caught in words is not the effect of a cause. Rather, it is cause itself.