When I used to compose music, I'd sit for ages squeezing it out of myself; I made a huge effort, drove myself. But there was nothing like that this time. It was like music pouring out by itself. It was like the desire to sing – and I sang, the desire to pray – and I prayed. Do you remember?
The abbot said: "Let it come through you like something that doesn't belong to you."
The experience of ecstatic oneness with the Divine comes in many forms: quiet contentment, a sense of gentle rapture, a mystical feeling of universal harmony, all-consuming passion, flights of spiritual abandon, and ferocious joy. But the most powerful experience of ecstasy is a combination of these feelings, when, in one unforgettable moment, we touch the hidden God – the terrible and wonderful Mystery that has given birth to all things and that makes them glow and dance with Its life force. In those moments we may see what It sees and feel at least an infinitesimal part of what It feels.
