I recently spent the evening in a room away from home where my sleep was disrupted; I was tortured by a constant sliver of light streaming through a window, all night long. This is a great description of our plight, our personal struggle through life.
A mass-produced hanging blind did not fully cover the picture window, and was not centered, but was scrunched up to one side, leaving a small gap of less than an inch wide on the other. The head-end of the bed in the room was placed, so the stream of light beamed directly across my face, as I lay exhausted, and unable to comfortably position myself in a manner, as to avoid it. I tried various things including, pulling a lightweight, stretchy, cotton headband over my eyes; it was too hot to keep it on for long. Shifting angles, and rolling onto my side became uncomfortable for any length of time. I propped up a pillow to block it, unsuccessfully; I needed my limited stock of pillows to prop up my knees, elbow, or just to squeeze therefore the light remained, as did my thoughts, and attempts to avert the affects I was experiencing due to its influence. It was unbending, unyielding, and driving an inner hostility, which was exacerbated from all of my physical efforts to control my circumstance, by exhaustion, and the desperate need for restorative sleep, as I had planned a long day hike beginning in the morning, and wanted to be well rested; I counted on it.
I did find intermittent respite when I did doze, or fall asleep off and on; however the aggravation intensified each time my eyes were pierced by the bright glare. I felt only half rested, never fully reaching a deep tranquil sleep.
Whenever we try to force our way into a circumstance, condition, or chain of events, we are caused a degree of agitation. Everyone is shown indications by, or is prodded with bright percepts, insights in the form of the straight and narrow… the narrow, a stream of light, the revealing of information coming straight at us; unavoidable, and at times, extremely uncomfortable, and difficult collisions, and potentially fatal, as the truth can kill our spirits since we are unable to stay in the light, because it’s too bright.
These insights we collide with shed light on the crux of our personal struggle in life, showing us how not in control of things we are, and how dull, in the sense, in general, we have no idea what will happen next, which makes us uncomfortable, and makes things difficult for us because we want the opposite; we want to be in charge. Our difficulty is, in not getting what we want; thus the discomfort, agitation, irritation, fear, anger, and hostility when we cannot control things. Getting our way is an illusion of control. When things happen, personal perspective forms our perception of how things should be, or how they should unfold, in order to be how we perceive them, or want them to be, and think they should be.
Sometimes we perceive the idea we can control outcomes, especially when we feel an accord with how things are unfolding. At some point, our mellow is harshed, as disharmony exclaims its presence, changing how we see, or process information. The peaceful easy feeling of our slumber is disturbed because while we are sleeping, and unconscious of what is going on in and around us, elements are doing what they do, and we eventually, collide with them, since we occupy the same realm, everything is moving about according to its order.
Our slumber is us, chugging along through life, mostly bumping into our fellow elements, and trying in vain, to avoid the struggling, fighting, and internal arguing against the way things are vs. how we want them to be, which is easy and comfortable; so we can rest medicine. We exhaust ourselves in the battle, all the while, hit with light, and forced to look at the true nature of things trespassing on our perceptions, throwing us off our resolute course, as we fight this new current energizing us, through our thoughts… adding fervor to the ongoing argument, which boils down to, can I or can’t I do ________ (whatever I want to do)?
What emerges is, us, full of halve truths and luke-warm ideas, as we bout with the idea we can keep whatever power we think, and feel we have, or can attain, so we can maintain, and induce a sense of security in our ever-changing environment.
From the straight and narrow comes confusion, since we cannot keep to the straight and narrow path. We are told things are one way, yet life experience tells us, while this seems true, given certain consequences to certain actions, there are seemingly endless, limitless, ways, and means, leading to the same consequence, and same end for all of us.
We are told, we are individuals making up a whole world, that we are unique, yet the same… the same, only different! This is the shining light beaming at us. We are all different, affect the whole, and end in the same place.
We study life cycles to determine what’s the best way to go. I’m chuckling silently because it’s so futile, and seemingly pointless if we all end up the same, anyway (literally, any way we go); yet there is so much brightness in the world, e.g., someone’s smile, a loving caress, or encouraging words, a playful animal, child, adult, plants, mountains, space, the ocean, and on, and on. There is so much to learn about, and enjoy, yet ours is a world of many sorrows, as many, as the innumerable joys; them playing off of each other is exhausting for us, as we go, day by day, back, and forth between darkness and light. We are pawns of the dark and the light, literal hostages. We don’t always see the truth, only when the light forces itself upon us, when our eyes cannot be averted. Maybe, temporarily diverted by distractions, which catch our eye. We are caught, and held captive by the beauty we behold. Darkness, true, pure blackness, reveals nothing, making it easy to get lost, and grope in blindness, as well, true, pure bright light, causes blindness, yet it’s the light by which we see, and under which, things are found.
We are captured, though, by the moonlight, the half-light. It isn’t as bright as the sun, promising to burn us up if we look directly at it, or are exposed to its sheer power. We can stand in the half-light, where things are dimly lit, and only see a half-truth. Through the twinkling light we see a lot of beauty, and wonder. The moon reflects the power of our mighty sun, to which we cannot stand too close, needing protection from its immense power. However, we can stand in the moons cold reflection, which is the lesser power; a reflection is not the real thing; though, the reflection is real, and mirrors what we long to know about… space.
Outer space fascinates us because of what we cannot see. What we do see is shadows, bringing us hope, of more than what we know to be. Through reflections of bright light, we can see objects, and patterns, accepting there are so many, and they are so vast, they seem innumerable, but what are they?
We are aware of elements making up the objects we catch a glimpse of; however none of them are identical to us, or our planet. Brilliant scientists infer everything boils down to odds… odds are, there are so many of this or that, its bound to be paralleled, or duplicated. This sounds logical, and true, but is only half true.
Mathematics do account for much. Everything can be calculated. Everything has a formula, however this does not account for how the formula came to be. When we calculate, we put things together summing them up. When we build, or replicate nature’s build, we dissect it to come up with its formula; we break it down in order to build it up. We need to know its properties, and their quantities to attempt a replication for its application, and implementation into our routines, and schemes.
Mathematics calculates, and records, but does not make things, or make them happen. It shows how they happen, but not how they happen to be. Mathematics is a term for the formula, but does not create the formula. It is merely a reflection of what is made.
We think of mathematicians as bright stars, brilliant, and enlightened beings because of what they have discovered, un-covered. The mathematician is only a vessel for revelation, like a mirror reveals an image, giving us a picture of what exists, but unable to explain its existence.
The mathematician is a superbly cultivated creature, whom I admire because I believe them to have the commendable quality of curiosity, which promotes learning however many, in keeping with much of the intelligentsia, lose true curiosity therefore lose the capacity to think intelligently, but think in an applied method, in what they deem a logical way, making them stubborn, as they succumb to rigid thinking in the sense, they are fooled by the reflection, distorting their perception, so as to no longer seek the real thing, the source of the image, the true image, but put all of their effort into what they see in the mirror, and we all know, looks can be deceiving.
With douses of the true lights infiltrations, we cannot avoid a startling, and astonishing epiphany here, and there, nor can we avoid our true nature, which means adding in personal perception, and discernment, in light of what we see; however the more superior the light, the more magnificent the beauty, and its envisioning.