(journal entry from February, 2001):
I walked by the sea tonight. I needed pure refreshment.
One cannot hope to find God in the multitude of people; one cannot hope to find Him within the confines of human understanding.
Instead, one must attempt to approach the farthest limit of understanding, the boundary between the comfort of knowing all, and finding something bigger than it is ever possible to comprehend. Only then, as we face the unknown and unknowable, do we find that this bigger reality than that which we can comprehend, is the ultimate source of truth and love.
At the water’s edge, the roar of the sea, a raging force boiling beneath the surface calm of breakers, is ever present. I walked alone, looking out across this vast tumultuous array of moving waters, as the night fell and no longer could the sea be seen: only a vague white of crashing breakers constantly moving in toward the shore, but never beyond, could be seen, and the deafening roar of something beneath that can never get out, heard.
I sensed the fear of something bigger than can be overcome or completely understood. Yet I sensed the peace from attempting to touch its border, feeling it near – something frightening, but something real and not temporary.