“Now years have passed, and I wait long hours in the sun to see the birch fall of its own weight into the lake. How it seems to punctuate God’s name. Nothing sad about it. And sometimes, at night, when the dog is asleep and the owl is beginning to stare into what no one ever sees, I stand on the deck and feel the black spill off the stars; feel it coat the earth, the trees, the minds of children half asleep; feel the stillness from which all things grow.
“Now I understand that, despite our pressing busyness and endless worry, we need the stillness from which all things grow. Despite our distorted want to be the sun, we are more like plants growing toward the light. Despite our secret want to be in control, we need the armless surrender of a drop longing for the ocean.” ::Mark Nepo, The Exquisite Risk