Is this the shape of my world?  That’s what I thought about first.  It’s how the reds and browns of the earth’s soil have stained my skin.  How my sweat melts away the shape, but not the color of the dust from the road that I have traveled on this day.  What are these things that hold my life intact? --  That contain all of my goodness, my godliness,  all of my sins in one big crucible,  fused together on the horizon line,  the earth and sky have become one movement, a single gesture in time.  The sculptor’s marble has become white clouds, white nothingness filled with moisture and air. They are filled with purpose and with water. Water to quench our thirst, extinguish the flames,  wash our hands and finally to merge with our tears. These are our tears of joy, of frustration, mystery, and most importantly surrender .   Surrender is a tough lesson, we must surrender to all that we don’t know,  & to all that we want to control.  The gesture of surrender is not complete until we open our hands and heart to our faith,  to our own, deeply personal faith in all that that we know to be true and real without having ever “seen” it.