Some very eloquent man on the radio was telling me (and, yes, I like to think he was talking directly to me) about great spiritual masters and their ability to see the face of god in everybody.
"Everybody?" I ask
"Everybody" I imagine he replied.
"Even the guy who swore at me this morning when I asked him to move his truck out of my driveway?"
"Even him."
"Even the person who stole Joy's bike?"
"Yep."
"Even George..."
"Emily, I need to get back to my radio show now."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry."
Nope. Can't do it. Not yet at least. For now, I'll practice on the ugly and damaged furniture of the world.
Since we started storing our not-yet-refinished furniture where customers could see it, I've been amazed at how many people love the exercise of looking at an ugly thing and finding its inner beauty.
You've got a missing drawer? You're perfect. You've got a yellowy oak stain? We see a divine glow. Covered in mysterious grey stuff? Step right up, we'll wash your feet. Falling into innumerable pieces? We can't wait to hold your thousand hands.
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