One of my favorite posts from the past!
There was a moment, a few days ago, when the worried thoughts, that seem to entangle me all too much as of late, stopped and I felt peace.
At moments like this, words do not seem to be justice, not even coming in a close second, and after saying that I was entranced by the way the sun had highlighted the cottage cheese texture of an errant cloud with a golden light, contrasted by the dark purple – almost a black. It took my breath away!
I find myself struck dumb of words to explain my feelings at that moment; really, I say in the end, you had to be there – and if you haven’t been there, well then I pity you.
And latter, after my soul had recovered from this wordless expression of God’s beauty, I was struck dumb by a full moon that had somehow contrived to…
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“My words speak for themselves, and not for me, pursuing some incomprehensible agenda of there own; They come and go as they will, often stubbornly denying me even the illusion of control.”
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Fiat Lux (“Let there be Light”): Photograph of a Stained glass window, at night, back lit by ambient street light.
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Thoughts on an Optical Illusion and the question about reality … and God.
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A machine follows static pattern, always the well worn path, without realizing that the pattern of the world is always dynamic, always under construction. This is the mystical: A true mind calls new pattern into existence without being trapped in the static pattern of the past, without being a machine. (“Knock, Knock, Neo” … “The Matrix has you.” The Truth is that there is no Final Truth … looking for the Final Truth was the Pharisees Game.
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Sometimes I become entranced, mesmerized, by the shapes of our words on the page, the shape seen from a distance from which the words are no more than gray smudges, as if there is more to learned from the void space left over after everything that was to be said was said. I fantasize that if I had a proper hearing, a hearing that heard the silence surrounding the drone of everyone’s finely worded opinions, maybe here I would find the answers to those important questions, the longings of my soul that resist my words. Who knows who I could meet there – maybe you for the first time … maybe God finally unchained of my words, my theologies?
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