It’s exactly like this: Imagine a field. A field of rye, say. Imagine yourself standing in this field one night. All around you, snow is falling. Millions of snowflakes, covering the rye, the surrounding trees, covering the ground. Above you the stars shine. It should be cloudy, but it’s not. The stars are shining like crystal. They whirl about, gathering into shapes. In fact, it may be that the stars are falling, not snow. All around you tiny shapes drift down. You reach your hand out to one and catch it. Out of millions of crystals you catch one. You hold it in the palm of your hand to look, inspecting with an attention that electrifies you. It’s beauty electrifies you. With sudden, absolute clarity, you realize that you’ve chosen this particular crystal, this snowflake, this star, this messenger. It has chosen you. You stare into the intricate pattern of congealed light and find a face. And this simple act, this standing, this reaching out, this catching, this choosing, has done something to you. Nothing is coincidence.The furious world is not the same. Your world is not the same. A bargain has been struck between you and the universe.