I'm enjoying a wonderful (though very hot) stay in St. Louis. Today the temperature will rise close to 100, and only a slight breeze will stir occasionally to cool things off. However, I've been staying inside with my family in the pleasant air-conditioning, so it's been an enjoyable few days for me. Yesterday, Al, Mary Anne, and I drove out west of the city to a wooded resort community called Innsbruck, where my brothers and sisters and I celebrated together with great food and friendship. It was steamy outside, but inside, with a good-looking view of the lake, it was as comfortable as friends would want it.

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I never tire of considering the astounding truth that every present moment is perfect. Whatever is happening at a given moment is what must happen, and is happening in precisely the way that it must. Even a tornado striking a house at a particular time on a particular day is being a perfect tornado for that moment on that day. We don't like it, but that doesn't alter the fact that it's doing exactly what it should do -- and perfectly. Perfection exists in every moment. Whenever a breeze is blowing leaves across a sidewalk, it's doing it perfectly. (Would you ever think of saying, "Oh, the breeze is a little bit off, not quite perfect"?) If I'm sitting in an airplane over Pennsylvania and writing with green ink, I'm sitting and writing in a flawless manner. My handwriting may be "messy", but it's messy in an absolutely perfect way. If I'm thinking fearful thoughts, there's not a single defect in those thoughts. Their fearfulness is utterly perfect. If I make a mistake (which is simply an unusual or unexpected way of doing something), it's always a perfectly executed mistake. I never get less than A+'s for knowing how to do fine mistakes.

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It's sad for me to think of my death or the death of a particular loved one, but it's not sad, really, to think of death itself, because death is a necessary and therefore beautiful part of life. When I'm feeling selfish (wrapped up in my "self"), I'm afraid of death, but when I'm feeling unself-ish, I see that death actually is a vital part of life, because it allows life to continue to be infinitely creative and expansive.