While I was working on my latest novel, The Leap of Faith”, I came to a notion, that appeared trite and mind-boggling at the same time. Maybe I've just never looked into it that way, I don't know, but the more I am thinking about it, the more amazing it appears. I'd like to share it with you.

Each of us, living man or woman, are the living tips of incredibly long lines of lives, going all the way down to the dawn of humanity. And if we could follow these lines back in time, we would arrive at the source, where all these lines converge. What is that source? Or who was it? Was it a single pair of progenitors, or a cluster of several different but capable of interbreeding species? The answer remains a matter of faith, religious or scientific, whichever you take.

The day of Transfiguration had just passed. It was a good day to be on some mountain, looking up for a light. I couldn’t do it, though; I've spent my day in a hole, in darkness. Nevertheless, it never hurts to dream about light:
And why do we call it transfiguration? That's the question I’ve asked myself.
As the story went, Jesus took three of his best disciples (Peter, John, James), went to Mt. Hermon and there his countenance turned dazzling white; Moses and Elijah appeared before Him and paid Him homage; and Peter said... well, everyone knows the story [1].
You also probably know, that the Transfiguration of Jesus, like almost everything else in the New Testament, was preceded by Old Testament events - the transfiguration of Moses. Moses’ countenance irradiated bright light, when he went down from Mount Sinai. “The skin of his face shone because he had been speaking with the Lord.”[2].