I can never forget that scrap of a song I once heard in the early dawn in the midst of the din of the crowd that had collected for a festival the night before: “Ferryman, take me across to the other shore!”

In the bustle of all our work there comes out this cry, “Take me across.” The carter in India sings while driving his cart, “Take me across.” The itinerant grocer deals out his goods to his customers and sings, “Take me across”.

In the midst of our home and our work, the prayer rises, “Take me across!” For here rolls the sea, and even here lies the other shore waiting to be reached–yes, here is this everlasting present, not distant, not anywhere else.
From Rabindranath Tagore, The realisation of the infinite

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