Is mental clarity a requirement for spiritual development?

Last week I went into the deserts of southern New Mexico, just as I've done most years since I've been an adult. I go to wait for a vision. Sometimes it's a vision in the traditional sense, usually it's not. Usually it's a message that finally takes root. Sometimes it had been there for months, sometimes years; it's meaning hidden by city life the way stars are hidden by city lights.

Be gentle.

That was my first vision four years ago. The world too hard for so many soft bodies. There's a beautiful line from the last scene of Our Town where the stage manager notes that people tire themselves out trying to make something out of their lives. "The strain is so bad that every sixteen hours they must lie down and rest." I tried to lie down, but I didn't get the rest. I couldn't clear my mind of my grandfather, his cancer, the family dynamic from which I've been so happily removed for many years. I didn't expect it to.