There is an art to wandering. If I have a destination, a plan -- an objective -- I've lost the ability to find serendipity. I've become too focused, too single-minded. I am on a quest, not a ramble. I search for the Holy Grail of particularity and miss the Chalice freely offered, filled full and overflowing.
Heart of my heart, Breath of my breath,
I abandon myself into your hands;
Do with me what you will.
Whatever you may do, I thank You:
I am ready for all, I accept all.
Let only your will be done in me,
and in all your creatures.
I wish no more than this, O Blessed One.
Into your hands I commend my soul;
I offer it to You with all the love of my heart;
For I love You, and so need to give myself,
To surrender myself into your Hands,
without reserve,
And with boundless confidence,
For You are the Heart of my heart.