The Great Wall

When I sat down on a rock in Half Moon Park—deep in the wilderness of Montana—I did not know this moment would be the best one of my life, but it was. It was like my wedding day—filled with colour—the culmination of something that had been years in coming, but was inarticulate. No, I take that last part back. It was better than my wedding day.

Hasidic Jews believe that God fills every bit of his creation. God in the stone I sat on; God in the Ponderosa pines singing on the hillside; God in the wild goats living on the great wall; God in the wall itself. I never had so much God at once. I walked back to camp; I must have been like Moses come down from Mount Sinai, pulsing with glory. I didn't stop smiling for three days.