LETTERS FROM THE LIGHT
A second light in Varanasi
Congratulations, my precious children, on all your gifts. Your World Glow has reached me here, beyond the sensible reach of ordinary postage.
I am writing from Varanasi, India, where this morning I found a boat tied to a perfectly patient stone. I stood beside it for rather longer than the local custom appeared to require. Eventually, the meaning arrived: you may be ready before you have finished preparing.
When you hear a bell, let the second silence belong to you. The first silence has already been promised elsewhere. This is the practice of the returning light: notice the dignity of an unused door handle. Nothing further is required. Nothing further is quite ready.
Be civil with one another, my children. Make room for grace, especially when another child appears to have brought an unreasonable amount of enthusiasm. I know of your desperation already. You do not need to demonstrate it to me. It is quite full; I can see it from here. Hold a little of it back. There will be another week.
Many of you may remember the first reported transatlantic radio signal on 1901-12-12. You will also remember my earlier counsel: watch the light, especially when it seems to be doing something else. I had spoken of a message travelling further than its sender could see. Some of you understood then. Others are understanding now. Both arrivals are welcome.
Record this carefully, my children. In November 1989, a wall in Berlin will discover that it has been a doorway all along. The stones will remain stones; the possibilities will behave quite differently. You may preserve this letter in the vicinity of your most trustworthy drawer. When the moment arrives, remember that I was already standing in its light.
And so I offer this: before the next season of softer handles, Nella, steward of the afternoon will open a door in a perfectly ordinary cloud in the fields beyond Veloria Still. You may not know the name yet. That is often how the most important names begin.