In my view, the holy is not based so much on the physical environment, but on the experience and perceptions of it.

We might as well give in to the tug of our spirits to explore this confounding and wondrous world. We might as well greet each other as endless pilgrims and bid each other well on our way. Because we're already on the road.

Currents of energy shimmer through our bodies. Like shooting stars, we rocket through spacious stillness. But this silent, unmoving background is nothing like the granite ideas we use trying to take root in groundless soil.

Architecture is made of memory. The slope of a roof, the shape of a window, and the color of a door contain the record of the minds that conceived them and the hands that crafted them.

Thus, flexibility, as displayed by water, is a sign of life. Rigidity, its opposite, is an indicator of death.

Dreaming is a journey through wonder, surprise, and freedom.

Over time, each day has become another stretch on an endless pilgrimage road. The terrain of this sacred journey has become fluid and ever-shifting. Every step of the way is an arrival, but not a place to linger.

Since every building and designed object is made of memory, every place can become a memorial for re-membering our lives and the world around us... a place to recollect the fragments of our lives into a revitalized whole.

For thousands of years, much of humankind has believed that only special places are infused with the sacred and that you must get away from the everyday in order to find it. Not so, everything is infused with the holy--from chairs to clothing to kitchen stoves.