One of the things he liked most about the hermitage was the silence. "Silence is my music now." He could pick up the small sounds of insects and animals. Sometimes when the wind was strong, it blew the sound of the traffic to him. He liked to think of all the people going on with their lives and to think of himself as in a sense staying where he was for their sakes, "like a lighthouse keeper."
I believe that works that touch the Divine or teach us or are still with us centuries after their creation are the ones that did not come out of a place of power or control or techniques, but came at the moment when the heart let go and God answered the question.