Traveling for the last few days, attending my son's graduation from seminary (like father, like son, I guess), and taking in the wonder of spring on the east coast of the U.S., I frequently noticed how much our fellow animals delight in the new season:  like us, they seem overwhelmed by the abundance of the moment.  After the snow and cold of winter, all living creatures cannot at times seem to process the fullness of what is before them.
     It reminds me of the immense possibility of the universe.  We will never tap everything the cosmos has for us. We will never exhaust its potential and what it can offer us.  Throughout our lives, the universe will, to borrow some words from a very old song by Neil Young, give us more than we can take.
     In a good way.  Why, however, this inexhaustibility?  Why this seemingly infinite presentation of possibility?  And why do we see it this way?
    Maybe, as much as the squirrel scampers to its leafy drey, thinking about the present as well as the future, we are made to live and imagine what is before as well as what is beyond us.  We cannot do otherwise:  we walk in the metaphysical, the metaphysical in our minds, hearts and, most importantly, the presence of God.