Refracting the purer light

Ouch, it is too bright! I kind of know that feeling.

It is hard to read even a few lines of Meditations on the Tarot and not be inspired to write a whole entry about those lines. The reason for this lack of proportion is that higher dimensions multiply when described in lower dimensions. In order to properly describe a mountain in pictures, you need innumerable photographies from every possible angle, and even then you have only described its surface, not its interior.

In a more poetic metaphor, you may compare Unknown Friend’s writing to a beam of bright light, that is refracted into a spectrum when passing through a different medium, which I certainly am. Admittedly, I am not a pure crystal but rather hazy and with shadows and impurities, so some quality would be lost even apart from the loss of compactness, intensity or concentration. Furthermore, I have my own “color” which colors everything that passes through me, so the spectrum I might display is different from the same light passing through another.

If I was a saint, or at least walking the path of sainthood, I could have done this to the Bible itself. In fact, I did, when I was young and innocent – in the sense of innocence where I was covered by grace like a junkyard covered in deep snow. These days, the light from High Heaven seems too bright for me, for the most part. I wonder if I shall live and die this way, illuminated mainly by the lesser lights, similar to the light of the moon rather than the sun itself? Although in the end, there can only be One source of Light, for sure.  (Speaking still in the spiritual sense, of course.)

And to be honest, I probably add a little too. I have lived many years now and learned many things, some by personal experience, some by reading or listening, and a little by the Presence in my heart. When some related ray of light hits my heart, it had the ability to wake up what is there, so that sometimes there comes out more than came in. But generally it is the other way around, at least with Unknown Friend. And let us not get started on Frithjof Schuon, a single paragraph or perhaps a sentence of his could easily expand to fill a book. It is incredibly dense. Or perhaps I am, but then in a less flattering sense!



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