I first discovered Sophy Burnham when I read her book, The Art of Intuition. Her writing so often reminds me of the mysterious, miraculous, invisible weave that unites our ordinary, extraordinary lives.
I’ve been thinking about the meaning of life. It’s the kind of monumental question I used to worry like a terrier with a toy when I was young and that I don’t have time for now that I’m older. But occasionally the question arises: Do we make meaning out of a human need for order and control, or is there an underlying Force working things out in Its own way? I‘ve experienced moments (so many!) when it seems that something–spirit guides, angels, some invisible energy–must be crimping Time deliberately to formulate coincidences.
I remember once being invited to have lunch in Manhattan on the same day that I had
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