A man, this man, walks a line; and in this walking, direction matters much more than time. Miracles can happen in an instant or a slow turning can take a lifetime, or not at all. Like the law of the universe that compels motion (see ”Walking is Falling a few days back), the line asks for some walking, and in a direction.
I have been told that heaven waits at the end of the line, or hell. I have been told that I need to decide about that and that my direction on a line will land me in one or the other. But I don’t have that knowing in me. I am drawn to walk this line, my line. I think we all are. What does this mean, my line? I don’t know, but I don’t think the walking is all about knowing. I think it is about walking.