Description
I didn’t go to Africa with any intention of finding desert, but that’s how it worked out. And looking back, all else that happened seems, quite simply, less. That’s what’s odd about mystic experience – it turns life the other way round – the ‘everything’ seems nothing, and lost is found.
In desert, great spaces stretch us, too. Silence draws attention far further, deeper than the thoughtful mind, and solitude helps reconnect with mystic One – the providence of every need.
Written in 1988, when I was 51, at a time of personal heartbreak and political confusion – prolonged, quiet, experience of desert’s own intrinsic yearning, absorbed and took mine to a ‘mystical beyond’ where – even without knowing how, the separate came to completion and, blessed by simply being there, grace took form to share it.
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