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      The beginning may not be at the beginning, not at the
beginning of the day or of the season or of the year. It may not
be even at the beginning of life. The beginning may come
anytime, when we are sleeping, or walking, or chopping wood,
or brushing a fly from our ear. The beginning may come when
we make love or stare out the window at the snow falling. It may
come at night when we wake and wander through our rooms.
The beginning may have come long before we thought of what it
was, this thing, the beginning. And so we need to listen, listen
with our ear to the ground, listen until it gets clear enough, loud
enough, strong enough, close enough, until it gets the proper
weight, until it hangs so heavy that we cannot do anything but
hold it, touch it, smell it, taste it, that we cannot help but begin.
Begin, yes, beginning. Listen.


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