Only in our doing can we grasp you.
Only with our hands can we illuminate you.
The mind is but a visitor.
It thinks us out of our world.
Each mind fabricates itself.
We sense its limits, for we have made them,
and just when we would flee them
you come and make of yourself an offering.
I don’t want to think a place for you.
Speak to me from everywhere.
Your gospel can be comprehended without looking for its source.
When I go towards you, it is with my whole life.
– Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours
*I took the picture above one Sunday in New York almost two decades ago now. It remains one of my favourites. A grandmother and granddaughter. Watching them love each other that day was like watching God. A blessing.