Do not limit the voice of God. It is everywhere.
So I am driving to work this morning and fuming over a certain someone at work who had really frosted my English muffin. I set my mind to work on a solution. I talk out loud in the car. I fret. I growl. Nothing.
I turn on the radio and grump.
Then I glance at the passenger seat; pick up the top book of a pile, open it to a story about an ancient Zen Buddhist poetry contest in China and the first poem scans:
”The mind is like a mirror. It collects dust. The problem is to remove the dust.”
The second shorter entry read,
”Where is the mirror and where is the dust?”
Most of my worrying about my antagonist this morning was so much glaring at dust on a mirror and then molding into a mountain.
Today I heard God say, “Larry there is no mirror, no dust.”