I like to live in the sound of water, in the feel of the 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 and 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.