Many beginnings go unseen. An acorn splits open in the ground, a caterpillar changes into a butterfly; these go unseen. If we split open the chrysalis or dig up the acorn, if we breech the mystery, the process aborts, no new leaves unfurled in the morning sun, no new wings spread out to catch the spring air. (When we read, In the beginning God created,  that's one telling of the beginning of the story we live in, the story of time, beginning, middle, end. But there's also the mystery of no time and no place from which time and space sprang miraculously.) So we await some transformations, they begin within us unseen, then unfurl into our lives, miraculous for having been hidden in their beginnings. We may wait years, we may wait a whole lifetime, for some miraculous grace which grew patiently inside us unseen.

Unseen beginnings seem to me poised to unfurl change. Temenos mandoorlas open, wide with sunshine and fresh air. Great trees stretch branches into clouds and stars, so we can climb in their branches to touch clouds and stars. A wonderful road leads toward mountains where fire flickers. We stand winged and rooted. We walk the new path toward the fire which does not consume.