I Think It Is Always A Long

Events, Once Happened, Lose Reality, Alter With A Glance, A Storm, A Night. In Time, The Past Never Happened. But Who Could Know? Who Could Know That The Past Is Not As Solid As This Instant.

The Book Of Telling Tells Of A Woman's Journey To Uncover The Secret Life Of Her Father And To Find Herself In The Process, An Unusual Counterpoint Between Personal History And The History Of A Young Nation. Haunting, Powerful, And Beautifully Written.

The Urge To Discover, To Invent, To Know The Unknown, Seems So Deeply Human That We Cannot Imagine Our History Without It.

We've Lost Our Way, We Have Lost Our Centeredness. We Don't Have The Time, Literally, To Think During The Day. To Listen To Ourselves Think. To Think About Where We Are Going, Who We Are, What's Important. I Would Bet Most People Don't Have Thirty Minutes In A Day Where They Can Just Sit Down And Think. Or Maybe They Don't Have To Be Sitting, They Can Be Walking.

I Consider Myself A Spiritual Atheist. I Certainly Believe There Are Forces Bigger Than Ourselves, And That We Should Be Searching, Individually, For Meaning In Our Lives. But I Don't Believe There's A Supreme Being, An Intelligence That Created Everything.