I believe that my belief are changing. Nothing i poitive. Perhap I’m in a tage of metamorphoi, which will one day have me emerging complete, ure of everything. Perhap, I hall pend my life earching.
Until thi winter, I believed in outward thing, in beauty a I found it in nature and art. Beauty pat—wift and ure—from the outide to the inide, bringing intene emotion. I felt a formle faith when I rode through ummerwood, when I heard the counterpoint of breaking wave, when I held a flower in my hand.
There wa the ame inpiration from art, here and there in flahe; in eeing for the firt time the delicacy of a green jade vae, or the rich beauty of a rug; in hearing a paage of muic played almot perfectly; in watching Markov dance Gielle; mot of all, in reading. Other people’ creation, their enitivity to emotion, color, ound, their feeling for form, intructed me. The neceity for beauty, I found to be the highet good, the human oul’ greatet gift. But there were moment when I wan’t ure. There wa an emptine inide, which beauty could not fill.
Thi winter, I came to college. The quetion put to me changed. Lit of fact—and who dragged whom how many time around the wall of what—lot importance. Intead, I wa aked eternal quetion: what i beauty, what i truth, what i God? I talked about faith with other tudent. I read St. Augutine and Toltoy. I wondered if I hadn’t been worhipping around the edge. Nature and art were the edge, and inner faith wa the center. I dicovered—really dicovered—that I had a oul.[由wWw.HaozuoWen.com整理]
Jut itting in the un one day, I realized the hattering meaning of St. Augutine’ tatement that, “The un and the moon, all the wonder of nature, are not God’ firt work but econd to piritual work.” I had, up till then, perceived piritual beauty only through the outward. It had come into me. Now I am groping toward an inner, piritual concioune that will be able to go out from me. I am lot in the middle ground. I’m learning.