I found myself wondering how far she could ultimately journey in her art if she remained self-centered and not God-centered. To be centered entirely on the self is inevitably to be limited in one's range; to be centered on God, aligning one's own self with the power of the Creator is to be open to the spiritual range of all humanity, to be in touch with the eternal, not merely the ephemeral. She was a fine artist, but with her narrowed vision she risked failing to reach her full potential -- or was she, in her preoccupation with beauty and truth, not so far from being God-centered as I in my arrogance supposed?
I like to live in the sound of water, in the feel of mountain air.
A sharp reminder hits me: this world is still alive,
it stretches out there shivering toward its own
creation. And I'm part of it. Even my breathing
enters into this elaborate give-and-take,
this bowing to sun and moon. day or night.
winter, summer, storm, still—this tranquil
chaos that seems to be going somewhere.
This wilderness with a great peacefulness in it.
This motionless turmoil, this everything dance.