‘[F]olks expect of the poet to indicate more than the beauty and dignity which always attach to dumb real objects … they expect him to indicate the path between reality and their souls’.*

In a rapidly changing world, perhaps more than ever, we need broken-openness to the other: to that which is unlike us, to the idea of trying something we wouldn’t normally do … and this to grow in the right directions to something bigger rather than retreat to a smaller world.

There’s no risk of becoming less who we are, of losing our identity, only the possibility of becoming more.  This is our zing.  The thing that we feel ranging back and forth within, that makes us feel are more alive and more ourselves.

Broken-openness is a way to live.

(*From Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.)


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