To Become Aware Of The

In Our Daily Lives We Attend Primarily To That Which The Senses Are Spelling Out For Us: To What The Eyes Perceive, To What The Fingers Touch. Reality To Us Is Thinghood , Consisting Of Substances That Occupy Space; Even God Is Conceived By Most Of Us As A Thing. The Result Of Our Thinginess Is Our Blindness To All Reality That Fails To Identify Itself As A Thing, As A Matter Of Fact.

Prayer Is Not A Stratagem For Occasional Use, A Refuge To Resort To Now And Then. It Is Rather Like An Established Residence For The Innermost Self. All Things Have A Home: The Bird Has A Nest, The Fox Has A Hole, The Bee Has A Hive. A Soul Without Prayer Is A Soul Without A Home.

Sometimes We Wish The World Could Cry And Tell Us About That Which Made It Pregnant With Fear-filling Grandeur. Sometimes We Wish Our Own Heart Would Speak Of That Which Made It Heavy With Wonder.

A Test Of A People Is How It Behaves Toward The Old. It Is Easy To Love Children. Even Tyrants And Dictators Make A Point Of Being Fond Of Children. But The Affection And Care For The Old, The Incurable, The Helpless Are The True Gold Mines Of A Culture.

Life Is Not Meaningful...unle Ss It Is Serving An End Beyond Itself; Unless It Is Of Value To Someone Else.