GOD CONSTANTLY reveals himself to us, and so once in a while, for a moment, we notice. Once in a while, we have unavoidable moments of insight that make it plain to us that during all the other moments we are living in darkness. Once in a while, we have moments when we see clearly that there is something else underlying our normal, ordinary living—something far more deep and profound. We become silent and reverent, and the normally incessant activity of our mind stops, for it knows it cannot comprehend what it has just experienced. It knows, beyond itself, that there is something else stirring around or over or beneath or behind or in front of it. It knows there is an other-ness to life.
We must treasure these moments above all others. We must teach ourselves to drink them into the deepest parts of our humanity, and we must do our best to make these moments last for ever within us. We must learn that this is the highest calling of memory—to carry through time the fleeting moments when we see life as it truly is, beyond the physical and mental. We must treasure them and allow them to be always with us, constantly leading us elsewhere, beyond the shadows of everyday life.
But we rarely, if ever, do this. We never notice, because we are always gazing elsewhere, captivated day after day by the things of what we call life, but that in truth are absolute nothings. This is the darkness of humanity—that it exists bathed in the light of the heavens, but doesn’t really care.