All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence, in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song -- but in this dance or in this song there are fulfilled the most ancient rites of our conscience in the awareness of being human and of believing in a common destiny.
To me the realization of God first came in the Atlas Mountains and then in the beauty of nature which stirred my whole inner being. The flowers growing everywhere were absolutely breathtaking, and I saw in them such beauty and wonder that could not have been put there by humankind. When I picked the frangi-pangi flower and thought much about it, I saw Spirit Creator. Who else could have made such beauty? Once natural beauty had turned my heart to God, I found myself continually raising my heart to God, without words but in thought. That is prayer in itself.
When I had my breakfast I would leave the door open in the summer and the birds would come right inside and pick up the crumbs around my feet. They had no fear of me at all. These birds also brought their families when ready. I later found out that this bird trust was because of my silence. Once I spoke to them, all went like the wind, and I praised God for such trust. Providing I remained silent they had no fear of me and I learned a great deal about their ways.
