"You don't have to prove anything," my mother said. "Just be ready for what God sends."
I listened and put my hand out in the sun again. It was easy.
In the point of rest at the center of our being, we encounter a world where all things are at rest in the same way. Then a tree becomes a mystery, a cloud a revelation, each individual a cosmos of whose riches we can only catch glimpses. The life of simplicity is simple, but it opens to us a book in which we never get beyond the first syllable.