Everything this morning reminds me the mystery of our lives. Thoughts, words, images collide.
Words. I think of the inadequacy of words. They are our friends but they can also mislead us. We sometimes think that the universe is made of words. We confuse the map for the territory.
Think "river." The word conjures an image in our heads. But each of us "sees" their own version of a river. And of course the word doesn't do the phenomenon, the process, the reality of what a river actually is any sort of justice. The word is an attempt but also a sort of lie.
I pull some Tarot cards this morning Art/Alchemy, the Queen of Swords. Images. Iconic. Mythological. Another way of describing a world, a moment, an interior state.
And then I read Ray Pride in New City and read: The eye... “It’s the neon demon!” he says. “You can’t destroy it. The eye is more powerful than our reality. Our perception is more important than what is essentially there.”