You do not have to be in some setting hallowed by greatness, or in the presence of an artist honored around the world, for art to move you. Art can work its magic any time you are in the presence of a work created by someone who has gone inside the act of creation to become what they are creating. When this takes place, time stands still, and if our hearts are open to this experience, our spirits soar and our imaginations are unfettered.
In the point of rest at the center of our being, we encounter a world where all things are at rest in the same way. Then a tree becomes a mystery, a cloud a revelation, each [person] a cosmos of whose riches we can only catch glimpses. The life of simplicity is simple, but it opens to us a book in which we never get beyond the first syllable.
I am being driven forward Into an unknown lane. The pass grows steeper, The air colder and sharper. A wind from my unknown goal Stirs the strings of expectation. Still the question: Shall I ever get there? There where life resounds, A clear pure note in the silence.
The "mystical experience." Always HERE and NOW -- in that freedom which is one with distance, in that stillness which is born of silence. But this is a freedom in the midst of action, a stillness in the midst of other human beings. The mystery is a constant reality to those who, in this world, are free from self-concern, a reality that grows peaceful and mature before the receptive attention of assent. In our era, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action.
