“I don’t fool myself into any talk about an afterlife or immortality,” she wrote in her journal. “But when I am waist-deep in a gator hole or elbow-deep in turtle guts, all I can say is: I feel a deep, visceral connection to the Source.” It couldn’t be talked about, prayed to, hoped for, understood or even sought. In rare moments, it revealed itself – in the shadows of an old-growth forest, the morning fog ghosting over the ocean, and the flickering light in the eye of a whale. It was ordinary as sunlight – and as luminous.
(Untamed, by Will Harlan.)
