If you are lucky and work hard enough, you may someday experience freedom from the known.

*Jiddu Krishnamurti

My friend, an Episcopal priest, handed me a written sermon, wanting me to read it. The sermon was written by someone else. Why wanting me to read it? Mainly for a story of Mystery. The speaker told of being a boy and playing in the basement of the family home. His dad had told him not to go into the basement - off-limits. The boy, this day, wandered into the basement. He began digging into the ground, as children often did before modern gadgets kids play with today, and mostly inside. His dad discovered the boy in the basement, told him to leave, and the boy left something in the ground. Just before his dad caught him on forbidden ground, the young son had come upon something in the dirt, but he did not have time to dig it up. Later, the family moved from that house. And the boy, now the speaker, shared how he lived in wonderment ever since, wondering what he almost uncovered. He related, then, on the value of Mystery to our lives. I, too, have learned to love the Mystery, and live with the Mystery. I am still learning that. And regardless of how I have found answers through many years now of study and spiritual practice, mystery leads to mystery. The more I know, the less I know. There is always something - Something - immaculately lovely just out of my reach, and I am thankful. I could say, honestly, I have fallen in love with Mystery. Now, what is that Mystery? That Something? What is this I feel so close to, intimate with, as though enticing me onward to yield more and more into the bright Darkness that is so bright to be the immaculate Light? I need no answer, only this Love, for this Mystery is Love, but a Love never having passed through the mind or spoken by the lips of anyone. Mystery remains, as Love, unspoken. Mystery remains mute to the intellect, but seduces the heart. I have been wooed into wonderment. Born into wonderment, may I die rejoicing in the Mystery, is my wish. This, I see to be what most call death - the threshold to another revealing of this Mystery, for Mystery reveals Mystery, as far as we know, endlessly or infinitely.