For my lunch break every day, I go to a cemetery near my work named Valhalla (I'll leave the irony for another time...). It is an old property with heroic, spewing fountains and lots of whispering sprinkler heads -- fft fft fft fffffffff -- and a beautiful cupola with ornate carving. It is a restful place (are you laughing?) where I do my mid-day practice. This happens to be a very hot ticket in town because it's the territory of a pair of red-tailed hawks who have recently introduced their two new ones to the neighborhood. It is a glorious place. Perhaps my favorite thing about the graveyard is that I have a horizon line -- full view from the center of green, green, green (I can't get enough green!). And it's filled with sound! Bird call, sprinkler chatter, jumbo jets, wind in the trees. I am so grateful to have these senses with which I can "engage" this [time/space] so supremely organized and manifested by God. After all, where did this splendor come from? The operation behind the operation must be a doozy. From the apple I greedily devour to the jumbo jets defying gravity over me...expressed thought..by something so vast I just devour my apple with awe.