The rain reminds him that one travels to sacred places in order to awaken that which lies sleeping within. He journeys on this path not to escape the world, but to enter it more deeply. Sometimes that is the only way we can open the doors to our own hearts, to realize that the whole of the earth lives inside the human heart.

Everything must break open in order to live. The seed must break open in order for the tree to grow. The egg must break open in order for life to emerge. The Earth must be turned and the cloud must burst. You were never meant to stay in your shell.

I like being out here. I like that people are, for the most part, at their best. They are open and alive. Conversation is not small or dull. We seem to be able to skip the pleasantries of how’s your day and get right into the meat of things. Maybe all travel opens us up like this.

The desert still has a memory of water. And that memory is a living thing. It is infused into the sand. It is part of its essence.

If Gandhi were here, and he’d even bother to talk to me, he’d probably shake his head and ask me what I thought I was doing. He’d probably gently scold me and tell me that one does not become spiritually evolved simply by filling a Spiritual Places Passport with stamps.