When
we are alone on a starlit night, when by chance we see the migrating birds in
autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children
in a moment when they are really children, when we know love in our own hearts;
or when, like the Japanese poet, Basho, we hear an old frog land in a quiet
pond with a solitary splash—at such times the awakening, the turning inside out
of all values, the "newness," the emptiness and the purity of vision
that make themselves evident, all these provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance.
—Thomas Merton, New Seeds of
Contemplation
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