In every life there will be at least one moment when ongoing grind of daily life blinks - revealing the timeless harmony of existence. In that moment a glimpse of true being is revealed; without words, without action, without description. Those who know this moment recognize it always, even in these clumsy words.

When the moment passes and ordinary life faces us again, our thirst is both quenched and heightened. The reality of completeness is complete, and, at the same moment, it has disappeared behind the open-mouthed monster mind on the search for something to have or someone to be.

After the glimpse, everything in the ordinary world is tainted with the recognition that it is a sham – a poor second to the glorious ever-present, yet ungraspable truth.

The bottomless pit of wanting is confronted by the infinite wholeness of being.

Albert Einstein described such a moment as “the religious paradise of youth,” as he recalled the recognition of universal harmony when he was first introduced to Hebrew teachings. As a young man, he wrote simple hymns he sang and prayed to himself while walking to school.

When introduced to geometry in math class, his view of God was challenged. While he did outgrow religious ideas, it seems to me that he was fueled by his naïve recognition of universal harmony to search for a mathematical and scientific language to understand it.

All of us are on the same quest through a unique route. For some the original “glimpse” may have been overshadowed by the traumas and tribulations of early life or possibly smothered in comfort and indulgence. Like looking for lost keys that “we know were left somewhere around here,” universal harmony seems lost just beneath the daily relentless routine.

Universal harmony cannot be lost – it is impossible – but our attention can get focused in other directions. And, as when looking for lost keys, the more agitated and anxious we get about finding them, or universal harmony, the harder it is to find.

Is it possible to find something that isn’t really lost? For that matter, is it possible to lose something that is ever-present?

Perhaps when Albert Einstein was singing his hymns to God someone else was thinking that he was wasting his time.

It reminds me of one of my daughters screaming: “Mom! I can’t find my sweater. . .” or whatever. Within 30 seconds of my coming into the room the “sweater” magically appeared – on the bed, under the bag, or on the floor of the closet. It became a joke as it occurred every time.

It wasn’t that something was lost – it was that she, or you or I, can’t see what is there when our minds are cluttered.