It had never been my intention to discover something new. I wa simply forced to follow the call of a voice. Now I know; it was the voice of God I wanted to hear, the voice I divined as a child, of which I dreamt when I read in the Old Testament that it sounded not in the wind, not in the earthquake, not in the fire, but that it was a gentle whisper. The voice of God speaks but of the soul, the soul speaks but of life, and as he soul means life, God means life itself, the beginning and end of a gigantic current which flows in eternal movement, in time and space, beyond time and space, and beyond any judgment.
The process of establishing ourselves in a habitual state of compassionate love takes place in the context of countless failure to be compassionate.But this proves to be no hindrance as long as we commit ourselves to being compassionate toward ourselve in our failings to be compassionate.Even our failures to be compassionate prove to be but new opportunities . . .This process of yielding to compassionate love unfolds and deepens over a lifetime of learning that when all is said and done, love is the playing field where we most truly meet ourselves and others as we really are, precious in our collective frailty.