There is a weight and a depth that can be found in silence, in stillness, in rest. I am ready to be weighed down, if this is what it feels like. If this is price of peace, then I am ready and willing to drown in that silence.

I sat on the porch a few nights ago, soaking up the brilliant light of a full moon that seems to lend a depth and mystery to the mundane Indiana countryside. Yet even as I write that, I am forced to ask, “Is any place ever truly, completely, utterly mundane? Is there any spot completely removed from the barest hint of transcendence?” Even in the dilapidated cityscapes of rundown warehouses and broken glass, the air full of the smell of urine and cheap wine and despair, you can catch a glimpse of the flickering evanescence of nuclear explosions millions of light years away.

There is so much beauty around us, whether that be the pulsing heart of the city, the space of trees and fields and desert, or the laughter of boys and girls jumping on a trampoline in the neighbor’s back yard…

Tonight, it was the moon, hovering low and weighty and ripe. Tonight, it was the full throated laughter of a little girl, and the strength and grace of a horse, and the knowledge that inside every cell of my body is over six feet of DNA, and that if stretched out it would reach to the moon and back a hundred thousand times over. Tonight, it was the peace and stillness that pitched a tent in my soul, and invited me in to rest for a while.

“We don’t need a lot of money, we’ll be sleeping on the beach, keeping oceans within reach… It’s going to be all right. You can close your eyes tonight, cause it’s gonna be all right.”



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