One of the biggest challenges before a seeker of truth is to avid a confusion between a contradiction and a paradox. For me, this confusion was resolved by my mother as her interpretations and her voice would hover low - like some sparkling vaprous haze after an afternoon shower - over words and strains from Gurbani and their meanings. Its another matter that after she left, so did the firmness of my gaze. I lost track and, with that, the sense of my place in the journey. Only vague memories of the path and direction unveiled to me by her remain - like some half-forgotten dream. Sometimes, the half-remembered outlines of her navigational explorations into the world of the Gurus and scriptures from other religions emerge again, resembling strong invitations from a mother to her son. But the son's feet, strayed too far out and away, and his legs and mind tired with and of petty pursuits, produce only moistened eyes that blur a paradise which was once uncovered by her gentle but unsparing voice.