Wouldn't you know it? Last autumn I became a seed and fell into the ground again. That is why I haven't written for a while. How could it always is in the soil. And dark. You can't imagine! But it doesn't matter whether there is light or not because you have no eyes. You feel all alone, and you don't know there are other seeds around you who are also trying to see. Then a little shoot begins to grow out of the top of your head and it starts to feel its way upward through what seems like all the dirt in the world. The ascent is long and hard; you believe it will never end. Then one day in May you break out and into the sun and air. Your eyes are restored, and, when you look around, there are poppies everywhere, all celebrating their own resurrection. What a feeling! I was just beginning to enjoy my own red blossom when a cold September wind stole into the valley and I returned to the ground. Now spring seems an impossible flower. I would surely lose heart if Jesus hadn't told us we are all seeds and that someday we will rise permanently and fall will be no more.
What is offered to the seeker of today is the same as it was before. The same luminous inner light, the same fathomless tranquility, that same drink which deeply quenches, that explosive, boundless love from the source of Love beyond, that same handhold with hundreds of thousands of messengers of light, that same blessed transmission being extended from the unfailing generosity of God. The ante remains as it has always been: the surrender of everything entirely, including one's very self. What is at stake, however, is greater than ever before. If you have understood this invitation my friends, if your heart has heard the calling of a traveler just like you, then take heed now and make haste as the saints have urged.