Some Things We Have Only

No Matter How Deeply You Come To Know A Place, You Can Keep Coming Back To Know It More.

Stories Are Compasses And Architecture, We Navigate By Them, We Build Our Sanctuaries And Our Prisons Out Of Them, And To Be Without A Story Is To Be Lost In The Vastness Of A World That Spreads In All Directions Like Arctic Tundra Or Sea Ice.

We Fly; We Dream In Darkness; We Devour Heaven In Bites Too Small To Be Measured.

You Write Your Books. You Scatter Your Seeds. Rats Might Eat Them, Or They Might Rot. In California, Some Seeds Lie Dormant For Decades Because They Only Germinate After Fire, And Sometimes The Burned Landscape Blooms Most Lavishly.

As For Me, The Grounds Of My Hope Have Always Been That History Is Wilder Than Our Imagination Of It And That The Unexpected Shows Up Far More Regularly Than We Ever Dream.