“To build a house, you must first clear the land, remove the stones from the soil, and use them for the foundation upon which to build. But to build a forest, first you send a storm.
“You send wind and rain, streams and rivers, fire to clear the understory, and—finally—the insects, the birds, and other animals that carry seed and spore and pollen. In this way, for millions of years now, the web of life has been woven, rewoven, and renewed.
“My fingers are deft and sure and my threads are strong. They are dyed with colors only a fraction of which you can see. There are designs you know nothing of.
“The world is a tapestry that tells a story with no beginning, no middle, and no end. You have given words to that story, and music. You have created culture and art. But you have not invented anything. You have not created something from nothing.
“The world is My body and the names that you have given to its various parts and particles are like the sands of a desert endlessly arranged and rearranged by the wind. The world you have built of these sand grains cannot endure. But My body will endure.
“So hold fast to that body and know it by the single name that I have written in your heart. This is the only word that endures from age to age. It can pass through fire and flood, sickness and death. It is always there—as close as a breath, as quiet as a heartbeat, and ready to be reborn. So trust in this. And remain close.
“Be neither fearful or fearless, but rather keep yourself still within and simple without. And listen for the moment when I say, “NOW!”