I envision a world where children are born to loving parents who want and cherish them, who recognize their pure and divine nature; where women and men are respected and honored as equals and cultures are based on the ecstatic experience, creative expression, exploration and protection of the interconnectedness of all life ... where the values of love, affection, compassion prevail, nurturing all beings... It is possible to create a realized world -- a pure land -- but we must all return to our primordial nature. That is the pilgrimage we are all on. It is the sacred space from which all sacred places are born.
Because in trying to articulate what, perhaps, joy is, it has occurred to me that among other things—the trees and the mushrooms have shown me this—joy is the mostly invisible, the underground union between us, you and me, which is, among other things, the great fact of our life and the lives of everyone and thing we love going away. If we sink a spoon into that fact, into the duff between us, we will find it teeming. It will look like all the books ever written. It will look like all the nerves in a body. We might call it sorrow, but we might call it a union, one that, once we notice it, once we bring it into the light, might become flower and food. Might be joy.