In the shallows. It is in each of us. It may be buried beneath the unsettled embers of unspent passions or it may be lost to all the gathering noise of our vanities and to the many voices that lead us and haunt us and seduce us and numb us. But I do believe it is there. And it is the very heart of worship.
Worship is mindless.
The way love is mindless. The way love's speech is muted. The way intimate moments between a husband and a wife are without thought or plan, but are fully expressed in the exchange that is at once sweet and spontaneous, uncivilized at its depths and in its nakedness, a thing unthought and unplanned. Encompassing all things around it, filling all things with its perfumes, leaving a memorial in the room. In this one last paragraph I have managed and dared the attempt to say perhaps what worship is and is not, and with the limited light that I am given.