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It was in grad school at the University of Oregon when I first became interested in the idea that a full understanding of the universe requires more than the objective, rational thought of mathematics.I had devoted more of my life to its study than to anything else.But could mathematics alone convey the fullness of the universe?Or was something more required?I was wondering if these more subjective ways of knowing had any place alongside mathematical science.Would it be as real as the equations that described the universe’s birth and development?Could intuitive knowledge be synthesized with mathematical knowledge to form an even deeper understanding?And if so, could I myself attain such a synthesis?I hardly knew how to understand this.By the time I was an adult, all theological thoughts had been pushed to the furthest corner of my mind.That and nothing more.And yet here was this strange idea from Eckhart about giving birth to the ultimate of ultimates each ordinary morning.He brought out subtleties in Eckhart’s thought that gave a glimpse of the universe rather than an explication of theological doctrine.Over time, I began to see a formal congruence between Eckhart’s intutions concerning emergence and the fundamental dynamism of quantum field theory.Should these considerations be sequestered in their separate disciplines of thought?Should scientists have nothing to do with theologians?I wrote to Fox with the suggestion that since science and theology are both central to civilization, a newly discovered resonance between them might signal the appearance of the next era of Western civilization.Do you agree that we are in the beginning stages of building a global civilization? Fox responded with handwritten letters containing triple exclamation points.I took the next step and asked him if we should invite others into this investigation.He wrote back and said I needed to meet Ken Feit since Feit was about to perform in the Pacific Northwest.Fox described him as a professional fool. This was disappointing.To meet Feit, I drove to a private home in the town of Mukilteo, twenty miles north of Seattle.Feit’s audience consisted of four people gathered in a living room with two stuffed chairs, a gray couch, and a dark fireplace.He began by asking us for stories of our foolishness.I was depressed and embarrassed by the scene.After each of us confessed some ludicrous act from the past, Feit acted out one of his playlets, short dramatic pieces designed to convey his message.When my turn came, I told the group I had just resigned from what had been my dream job as a professor in a university.As quick as a hard rubber ball bouncing off a concrete wall, Feit said, A lot of people are succeeding at things that aren’t worth doing in the first place. He poured several drops of oil in a spoon, dropped a kernel of corn in it, and held it over a burning candle.We sat in silence and watched the kernel.When it popped up into the air, he turned his head in an arc, at glacial speed, and locked eyes with me.He seemed to be saying that I, like this kernel of corn, was about to experience something wonderful.A week later, he was dead.I found a note Denise had left for me on the floor.I needed to return an urgent call.When I saw the 312 area code, I knew it was Matthew Fox.Matt’s voice grew angry when he recounted the final moment.As Ken sat in the wreckage his car had become, he was asked by his panicked traveling companion what she should do.He replied, Please be quiet.I’m dying.