On Truth and Colors
I am addicted to the thrill of hunting truth. Each understanding is a new pelt to add to my collection. When I hang them up on the walls of my mind, I see colors reflecting and refracting, like sunsets torn to shreds then reconstructed through wispy layers of clouds… or gray-blue skies casting two versions of the ocean side by side, distinct yet connected, blending together. A gradient beyond comprehension and perception alike. I wonder what the medium is here - is it water? is it light? - and then I chuckle at the absurdity of the questions. It is God, of course. And the medium is the message.
Sometimes in life, you will arrive at a truth through pure intuition. Later, you might stumble upon the perfect explanation for why it is true. And that ‘a-ha!’ moment feels so good, like something has clicked into place, but one must always remember: the truth was still the truth before you knew why it was. What you felt before you could articulate a reason for it is what matters. That was the thing that was actually real.
That feeling of intuition is a tether, tying you and all of creation together and binding you with truth. It is a good thing, a sacred thing. Honoring it is an act of surrender to the enchanted mysteries of the world and letting go of the false rational need to know why, why, why…?
Understanding is an illusion. Truth is a shape, a feeling, a color.
Everything is connected.
Beautiful.
"…the truth was still the truth before you knew why it was. What you felt before you could articulate a reason for it is what matters." 👌🏼