My younger sister and I were talking one night recently and she told me she was at an utter loss for words when it comes to being in awe of life and all God has made - all things - the forest, the earth, water, her infant son - and the tears were just falling from her eyes because, overwhelmed with emotion, she didn't feel she could convey even an inkling of her gratitude to God and I know exactly where she is coming from. I sent the following beautiful passage to her regarding this subject because I thought it eloquently translates into our discussion.
“I understand now why mystic minds use myth and metaphor, stories and comparisons to tell us What they’ve seen. The best that they can do is just suggest the Fact of It. They want to share an experience that lies beyond our words, and so they create tales to talk about a God they cannot talk about. Words break down in realms like this, but inside of them there runs a happy smile that takes our breath away each time “God” comes into view: an instant’s opening of the curtain, a nanosecond’s glimpse of an iridescent hummingbird toying with the sun just outside the window of a dark and stuffy room.”
-- George Fowler, Dance of a Fallen Monk
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