Before the restoration, it was the colors I watched, blue, red, yellow, green, pink; the architecture, the meadow, the hedges, the water. Now, what I see is light. White light. Color has been absorbed into form, Form is in the service of surprise. It is the light, the throbbing illumination, glowing on the horizon, rippling in the waters, blowing through the grasses, that touches my lips. Something has been set in MOTION.
God is directly present in the person who has the pure heart of a child and who laughs and cries and dances and sings in divine ecstasy.
How great is the difference between the secret friend and the child. For the friend makes only loving, living, but reasoned ascents toward God, but the child presses on to lose his or her own life upon the summits in that simplicity which does not know itself. When we transcend ourselves and become in our ascent toward God so simple that the bare, supreme love can lay hold on us, then we cease, and we and all our self will die in God. In death we become the hidden children of God and find a new life within us.