Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Introspection


Imagine a tunnel, a well, a mine. It is in this innermost temple—this most private sanctum sanctorum—that the jewel of personhood is shaped and polished. By methods far simpler, and more impervious to words, than prayer, the self attains its own panorama.

This figure presents a depiction of a factory of conscience, sanctuary of consciousness. How bare! What fragility! Such is the impression given by the long lines, long like the legs of herons. But this place is built of eternity. Of bone. Of stone. Cell by cell, piece by piece, brick by brick, the mind in repose, in observation of itself, limns its mandala. The order that results, the map of unutterable harmoniousness, leads through itself and on into the reaches of the universe.

Mind is the pebble, self is the ripple.

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