I wasn't going to send in last week's column. You know, too much chaos in my life, not enough order. Too much activity, not enough contemplation time. It was also too short. Although I liked what I had received, I couldn't think of any other examples to corroborate my feelings. But Larry is a great editor. He said that sometimes a column is only as long as it is. Sometimes it stops where it stops. So I let go of my expectations that it had to be the requisite 800 words and let it stop where it did.

Turning it in, I had the same hope that I have every Thursday: that someone, somewhere would find some benefit from these words. I always hope that the words will appear at the right time, in the right place, to make a connection with a searching soul. The next day I received an email from a fellow writer. We have shared reading each other's columns before with appreciation. This time, she said, her niece came to her seeking advice. What I had written was just what was needed.

I thought, wow, what if I hadn't turned in the column? What if I had decided that it wasn't long enough and therefore wasn't good enough; didn't have enough examples or information to make a point? No earth-shattering consequences — only one small connection not made. Does that matter? When you are searching to connect the dots, as I am, it does.

I believe in the Big Picture. You know, the one that will appear when all the dots are connected. Some call it the Web of Life, some the Grand Design. It's something I've been searching for and finding pieces of since I was young.

That chance picture that moves your heart. I cut out and laminated a picture of a young Masai boy when I was in the fifth grade. I still have it with me today. I ended up living for some years in Kenya, ready to make it my home.

That special book that inspires dreams. When I was no more than 8 years old, I read a book about a wonderful girl named Kjersti. I vowed to call my first daughter Kjersti. It happens to be a Norwegian name — my husband just happens to be Norwegian — and our first girl is named Kjersti.

A part of nature that calls to you. How does it happen that you can pass the same leaf twice in a forest of leaves? I have that leaf in my memory cup. It reminds me that whenever I feel lost, or alone, or not particularly special, someone or something will come along to help move me on my way to the next level.

A stranger, strangely moved by an inspired confidence. I have found that sharing a vulnerability creates a connection. Revealing a depth of trust and love that invites someone into your heart breaks patterns of isolation.

An experience of profound insight or intuition. Once, in meditation, I was on a swing, and on the upswing I just kept on going, entering an "other-worldly" plane. I became one with the flow of the Heart of the Universe, and yet, within this flow, I maintained my own identity. Caught in the current of creation I saw the core of my being, pure and brilliantly golden. As I came "down" from the heights, I discovered that the person sitting behind me had the same experience. Since then I've found two others who have had similar experiences — at one with the Whole, and at the same time wholly One.

For the searching soul, these connections are like crystals that grow on a windowpane on a frosty morning. They are complicated, yet simple, pure yet elegant — developing into more beautiful and varied patterns — revealing the preciousness of life in an ever-expanding universe.

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Anne E. Ulvestad is a free-lance writer residing in Maryland. She has her masters in earth literacy, and is available for public lectures and group presentations and rituals on Spirituality and the Environment. Anne can be reached at {email anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com}anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Anne E. Ulvestad