We seek some kind of permanence; a person, a philosophy, a feeling, a state, even a spiritual identity, to hold on to. But the fleeting nature of all experience ensures that everything we grasp eventually slips through our fingers – including our attempts to stop grasping. Until we recognise that impermanence is actually a dear friend, and fragility gives life its beauty, and this seemingly ordinary day – with its waking, its washing, its breathing, its joys and even its pain – is the dear friend we have always longed for. The Beloved calls us home in any way she can, and this ‘ordinary’ life is her ingenious invitation. You are imprisoned in grace, dear friend, and the key was never made.