In my own worst seasons I've come back from the colorless world of despair by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single glorious thing: a flame of red geranium outside my bedroom window. And then another: my daughter in a yellow dress. And another: the perfect outline of a full, dark sphere behind the crescent moon. Until I learned to be in love with my life again.
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The contemplation of sacred mountains with their special power to awaken another, deeper way of experiencing reality, opens us to a sense of the sacred in our own homes and communities — a sense that we need to cultivate in order to live in harmony.