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I am thinking today and tonight about perspective — how it affects what we see:  how distance distorts reality, how living inside ourselves denies us the ability of seeing ourselves, how thoughts and feelings overshadow what is real.


In this wonderful article about Tchaikovsky, his art, and his depression, Popova sites Tchaikovsky’s “ability to assure his loved ones of the very things he was unable to internalize himself[.]” What strikes me is a constant commonality in people to be confused by those who are devout light-shedders and encouragers once they are found out to be the greatest dark-wrestlers among us. Who is it we think would be best to ward off the darkness of depression in others? Those who have never been touched by it or those who are familiar with its tactics and maneuvers, who know very well its jabs and tricks?

It is this same way of thinking that will leave a person aghast, if moved to tears at Caravaggio‘s absolutely miraculous religious paintings, finding out even remotely the workings of his personal life. So, would it occur to anyone except an extremely accomplished sinner to paint Jesus thrusting Thomas’s finger deep into his wounds, to help him to believe? Never. And thousands believed because of it.

Comedians and actors don’t kill themselves because they are tired of laughing. They go into the darkness everyday to find the laughter. It is worth it to them. It is worth it to go there and come out and tell us we’re all human and it’s ok for us to all be fucked up. For the best of them, going into that darkness — that deep for that long with that much heart — eventually wears them out.  Comedians don’t laugh because they are just naturally full of light. They laugh because they continually beat the dark and make it out alive — and they are compelled to help us to, too.


Neptune is right next to the moon tonight.

I know nothing about astrology (yet).  I admit that completely. What I’m writing is my impression upon seeing Neptune (an indiscernible speck) next to our large moon.

What I do know is that Poseidon (Neptune) is the sea god. But the moon controls our tides here. That seems odd. Especially, knowing that in reality Neptune is enormous in relation to our moon. But, because of where we’re standing, Neptune is a speck.  More than that, because they appear so close to each other right now, the light of the moon is making Neptune even less visible.

My first thought, when thinking of Neptune as a speck, is “God is far away!” “God is cold! God is distant!” I know better.  And… I also know what kind of day I’ve had. It’s messing with me.

Enter perspective. The reality is that Love (God) is immense and things get in the way, even beautiful things. It is up to me to keep my reach limitless if I am to encompass what is real and true — whether that truth is clear or I am distracted, whether the distraction is chaotic and discouraging or it is beautiful.

Neptune hasn’t changed. The reality of how huge it is hasn’t changed. It isn’t suddenly a speck just because the moon is there, shining, and beautiful. My immense, religionless God of Love should never be mistaken as small because of where I am standing.



“Often what happened in western religions as they came along, they brought about this big attention to God and very codified ways of being in contact with him through specially ordained people.  And then it was really frowned up on that a person had his or her own personal relationship with God.  That was considered to be heresy, not to go through the Imam or the priest.  And so when these believers began to express these feelings, they were often treated very rudely, tortuously, by the prevailing and dominant forces or religion because it didn’t follow the doctrines.

Mysticism was really frowned upon. And there were crusades against it, as in southern France. So the idea of what is real — in the mystic world, the Real is the spiritual and the form is merely a vehicle, it’s not the real world.  But because our senses are so strong, the physical is often what gathers most of our attention.

So, I see you as being able to walk in these two worlds and often disconnect with the form, the world of form.  And you’re seeing deeper.  The only way you get to do that, is you’ve had to suffer. That’s the only way a person really sees into that deeper world is through the suffering.

That connection between humans is really a part of that deeper connection — the love that we often express, whether it be the love you might have for your children or the love you might have for another human being is a part of the great Love with the Divine.  And it’s the desire and the connection with the Divine Power of creation that brings us to always needing and wanting that closer, deeper contact.

If we came from God and live in this mortal life, then there’s a desire to go back to God.  There’s always that draw there.  Freud talked about it in terms of Thanatos — the Eros of the life here — and Thanatos of the desire of the life to relieve and move to what is beyond.” — [T.S.]