As I stood in that doorway I was watching time pass, light grow, slide down, fade, only to light up another section, and it seemed to me like a dance, something fast made slow, a silent song, a drama. I didn't make mental notes, I didn't make a sketch. I made time to see it. I gave time to it.

From all of these layers—the drama with no audience, my eavesdropping upon the performance, the beauty of the colors, the warmth given to a chilly morning, the short time it would last—from all of this bubbled up the idea that this was life itself. Not only what was happening on the stage (so to speak), but also my standing there so grateful for this silent stage. The light would fade from the scene, but now I carried it within me. Such is life.

What we surround ourselves with matters. What we take into ourselves really matters. What we can give others is from the overflow of the heart. And so, now there is a painting in the world that would not have been - a product of the heart's overflow for quiet beauty that contains ancient lessons, ancient lyrics, made into a present melody.