"It would seem," Höller later reflected, "that plants grow better in contact with positive human sensations." But perhaps that's no surprise either, that how we bear witness to what's before us can hurt or nourish what's before us. Our environments have always been soft to the touch, defined by how we translate them: mine or ours or simply here, the place where we happened to enjoy the outrageous luxury of remaining momentarily alive together.
The act of inner attention seems to create a medieval walled garden. It is hedged about with silence and stillness, but silence and stillness are not the heart of it. At the center is a fountain and we see that everything has arranged itself around the water playing in the sunlight: here is the source of the timelessness that is everywhere apparent. The more deeply we enter, the more the fountain soars above; awe and wonder claim us.
It asks that we learn how to live, to make a particular path and fullness out of the spirit's eternity and silence.