When the traffic, the messages, the distractions stop; there should be you.
At the end of the day, at the end of a meal, at the end of a sentence; there should be you.
Not the you that is the continuation of some unpolished subject at hand, but the sacred you, the personalized you, the perfect you.
Unhappy people cause all the trouble and sorrow. How many wonderful things happen to you when you are less than You?
Find your sunny little garden. Lie down in the soft grass, water a plant, listen to it grow, go inside there, to where you live.
Avoid places that are diametrically different. Erect a fountain. Open up to bees and butterflies and laughter and perfection.
Inside . . . fill it with bewilderment.
The Infinite 