The Astonishing Business of Being Here
The Astonishing Business of Being Here Each morning, the world reopens shop, without a grand announcement or a bell. The sun comes up, the clouds change shifts, and the trees resume their ancient argument with the wind, which seldom wins but never quits. Consider the arrangement: A planet spinning like a well-kept secret, oceans throwing diamonds at the shore, a cardinal dressed for a royal flight, and all of it supplied without an invoice. We wake, still inexplicably included, with another day tucked into our pockets. Some trouble waiting in the wings, no doubt, some glorious nuisance dressed as opportunity, somebody needing kindness more than advice. And there is the trick of it, I think: to stand beneath this extravagant ceiling, this circus of galaxies and ordinary miracles, and understand that wonder isn't innocence. It's having seen a thing or two and finding the world hasn't lost its nerve. We are brief guests at a magnificent table, with no guarantee of dessert or t...
