I am walking and contemplating while snow falls and a squirrel eyeballs me cautiously. And it feels so right as I think of the continuous day by day unfolding of those inner stirrings, those inner cosmic dances that never cease while non-stop wasting occurs in the physical realm of existence, day in, day out. There is reverence. It is a gift, no doubt. It is justified. It is liberating. It is transformative, that is if we are aware, if we acknowledge and believe. And new mercy is evident when we wake up every morning, breathing in and out, making us conscious of the moment and the blossoming moment-to-moment silent passing of the seasons of life. And it only tells me one thing: that it is about love. The kind of love that is deep, steady, consistent, humbling, nurturing and comforting. And that kind of love rules, no matter what. That’s the genius of that kind of love.