Yesterday at the kitchen table – in the shadow of Nelson Mandela’s death – I looked into my mom’s face and saw beauty that defies words.  After decades of viewing her face – and its many changes – I saw beauty that I’d not seen before.  Maybe it was the stories she was sharing from her childhood that awakened me to her face in this special way. She shared of joy.  She shared of loss. She shared of a racially segregated America from the last century. She shared from her heart. Without malice. Without shame. She honored those who survived and those who didn’t survive the American apartheid.  She shared of thankfulness for incredible people. People who shielded her from the worst horrors of racial segregation.  People who reminded her that her life mattered. She gave me a glimpse into that world.  As mom shared her story I heard the sacred sound. Creation. Life. Eternal Life. The Primordial Sound. The Light in the darkness.  The name that cannot be named. Light that is Life. That was one special kitchen table experience.



The Sacred Invocation.


anthony glenn miller


The tao that can be told

is not the eternal Tao.

The name that can be named

is not the eternal Name.

Chapter 1 – Tao Te Ching


The Word Became Flesh

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

John 1:1-5