the point

What's the point?, she asked me, as if I would have some ready, convincing answer. Deeply distressed that I couldn't ease her distress, all I could do was sob into the phone, blurting out inane bits of what I hoped were wisdom. Finally, exhausted, I said, I hope you'll decide to stay. I love you. It was the best I could do to convince another human being that it's worth the effort to go on living, but still I had no idea as to what the "point" might be.

Helpless and shaken, I went on with my day, and as I calmed down, I kept repeating the question - What's the point? I'd asked this in passing many times before, but assumed it was on the list of Things We Don't Get To Know. This time though, I really wanted an answer. Looking down at my own hands holding glass to the flame, one simple reply eventually came through, like a small voice, not exactly my own, and not exactly not my own. We are the hands and eyes and ears of God. We are that part of the Whole that allows the Divine to experience this reality. Could this be true? I hope so. I hope there's more to our existence than all the material goop we get so snarled up in. Turn off the TV, throw away the magazines, stop trying to be what the advertisers tell us we should be, and just be who we are. Just keep going, because we might be much more important than we can ever know. This is what I'll say today. This is a better answer.

The full moon over Avila Bay was possibly even more beautiful than the full moon over the Grand Canyon. There were pelicans flying through the light, and dolphins and seals rolling through the glittering, moonlit water. I don't know if anyone but me saw this through my eyes, but I do know, have known for some time now, that what comes through my hands is not always my own. How's that for something to ponder as we roll on down the road today? There should be a warning printed on all maps: Caution! A road trip is not always what it appears to be.