How many angels can dance on the head of a pin? Is there any way we could ever truly know?

There are so many issues for which we may never have answers, true answers, like who’s ‘right’ and who’s ‘wrong’, and yet we cling to our answers as if our lives depend on it. And we cling to our questions, from our points of view, without realizing there are so many other questions that have equal or even more merit.

Consider Mary Oliver’s poem, Angels:

Is it possible that we aren’t even asking the right questions? Is there room for Perhaps in our edges?