Imagine this exchange in the desert silence. You find yourself alone in a vast and empty terrain, standing before a naked wall of red-hued rock rising hundreds of feet above the canyon floor. Maybe it is the huge stone cliff seen from the chapel windows at Christ in the Desert Monastery in northern New Mexico. The stone never moves as you sit there facing it, but after a while it poses a question. How did the stone face of the canyon cliff change on the day of your divorce, the day your father or mother died, the day you came to admit your dependency on alcohol or drugs? Surely, it would seem,
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