does it turn out that god is an emptiness, a space into which life is poured and from which
life re-emerges, fecund and scrabbling in the void?
 -that this thing, this mystery, this void, this truth, this god- that this can only be seen
when everything else, including our minds, especially our minds, has dropped
or been sheared away?

you know then that you have to go. there is no question of choice. you have to leave it all,
find yourself a silent place, a wild place...

paul kingsnorth,
beast