I imagine our past laid out behind us like a great oriental carpet-runner rolling out from its spool toward infinity. On it sits the edifices of our memory — houses and huts — habitations fixed in time and sequence. Moreover, I imagine that when we become quiet, wait mindfully, still our continuous chatter — pray or mediate —  that we give the outspun carpet of our memory a shake, reorganize the monuments of our past, in the words of Omar Khayyam, “shatter (them) to bits, remold (them) nearer to the heart’s desire.” Who would not wish that for their friends and for themselves? Happy New Year good friends.