Mother Teresa who said, “We can do no great things, only small things, with great love.

There is more to life,” said Gandhi, “than increasing its speed.

Our culture confuses the pain of isolation with some impossible ideal of “self-sufficiency,” and then celebrates it.

Can it then be that what we call the ‘self’ is fluid and elastic? It evolves, strikes a different balance with every new breath.

Mark Nepo calls “experience greed” – namely, an insidious grasping not so much for material possessions but rather for a seemingly benign cacophony of socially active networks, service opportunities, ecological adventures, community activities, helpful organizations, sacred gatherings, and spiritual experiences.

When we do what we love, again and again, our life comes to hold the fragrance of that thing.

With every breath, the possibility of a new aspect of self arises.

Some of us have a hard time believing that we are actually able to face our own pain. We have convinced ourselves that our pain is too deep, too frightening, something to avoid at all costs. Yet if we finally allow ourselves to feel the depth of that sadness and gently let it break our hearts, we may come to feel a great freedom, a genuine sense of release and peace, because we have finally stopped running away from ourselves and from the pain that lives within us.

Adults who were hurt as children inevitably exhibit a peculiar strength, a profound inner wisdom, and a remarkable creativity and insight. Deep within them – just beneath the wound – lies a profound spiritual vitality, a quiet knowing, a way of perceiving what is beautiful, right, and true. Since their early experiences were so dark and painful, they have spent much of their lives in search of the gentleness, love, and peace they have only imagined in the privacy of their own hearts.

To pray is no small thing. It is nothing less than a sacred pilgrimage into the heart of the whole world.