At the end of each daily construction

At the end of each daily construction, at dusk, the constructor sits on top of a stone tower for a little meditation. The plenitude of tranquillity is perfect in the surrounding fulvous, undulating fields, covered by tall herbs, flowers and shrubs, and outlined by a small stream under the green shade of an arched foliage roof. We would say that the constructor’s gaze has encountered the being in extension, the being that offers itself, in its eloquent muteness, and at the same time holds itself in the very space of its quiet splendour. Meditation is nothing but the contemplation of a matter that contains in itself the excess of its calm energy, as well as the maternal density that involves all the questioning and makes thinking superfluous and intrusive. Therefore, the constructor integrates himself into the landscape and, in reflecting it, he does not design it or change it. His whole life is intact and perfectly safe in the indistinction between the depths of his heart and the tumid, fresh serenity of the surrounding landscape. The external reality became the most intimate and pure matter of the whole relationship and, conversely, the contemplator became an element of the landscape, seeing it from within itself and seeing himself in it. This circularity is the most harmonious manifestation of unity, and the purpose of the construction is to create the most favourable space for its quiet scintillation. There is no other more supreme, simpler secret than this vital relationship between body and space, between breath and landscape, between gazing and being.