There is the silence in which everything exists, and then there is the noise in my head that I have come to take as the natural background to my life. It has occurred to me that perhaps the trick is to begin to see the silence as the background and the noise as moving across it. The silence, the plain existence of things, is what is real; the thoughts are clouds.
We are part of the tremendous through
Forever surging in transcendent flight,
Perilous though the journey be long.
And all, it is ordained, will earn the right
To add our separate voices to the song
Rising triumphant from the chorus of the light.