THE SOURCE OF RAINBOWS

It comes to me in the knife-edge cold of the winter night, out here on the deck for one last look at the stars before sleep, that what we all need, what we all seek in the streets and rooms, meadows and museums of our ways, is a place to wonder. Not to be taught, but to wonder. Not to be told, but to wonder: completely from and by ourselves. Where are those places but out in the nature of things, as out in the winter beneath the stars without explanation? Where but in the sudden realization of how remote we are in the vastness we are one with, and in that wall of sudden awareness discover the bright door that opens in ourselves; then to walk through...