"It is these earthly tendrils - the touch, the sound, the smell - that spool me in, bring me back to the simple, undeniable truth that all of us, inhabitants of sky and soul and garden, are infused with breath from one sole source. And it awakens me, pulls me to attention, more than all the clatter in a world that stands to lose the art of listening. It's some cathedral, the place in which I cast my morning prayer. And it's the breeze rushing off the lake that carries me to where I meet the heart, the hand of God."
- Slowing Time, Barbara Mahany (Abingdon Press)
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