“You’re a mountain searching for it’s echo! Whenever you hurt, you say, Lord God! The answer lives in that which bends you low and makes you cry out. Pain and the threat of death, for instance, do this. They make you clear. When they’re gone, you lose purpose. You wonder what to do, where to go. This is because you’re uneven in your opening: sometimes closed and unreachable, sometimes, with your shirt torn with longing. Your discursive intellect dominates for a time; then the universal, beyond-time intelligence comes. Sell your questioning talents, my son; buy bewildering surrender. Live simply and helpfully in that. Don’t worry about the University of Bukhara with its prestigious curriculum.”
