There are times when what we understand to be ordinary is pierced by a larger comprehension of what is real. A quality of light or weather becomes an invitation that leads to vision.

Standing in the half-light of dawn or dusk, we may be allowed a peripheral glance into the crack between the worlds, a place between consciousness and unconsciousness, between intellect and instinct. The rippling reflection on the surface of a lake becomes a benediction. A flash of light just as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, the Buddha’s wink.

Vision does not belong to us; it comes to us in waves.