Here is the irony with visiting our own wilderness – as soon as we get there, it’s no longer wild. How does one remain still with such compelling curiosity? How does the ney flute remain silent, when its purpose as the once wild cane is to be cut away to kiss the neyzen’s lips and deliver its breath before the empty ears of the waiting.
Nothing cognizes a full heart like an empty heart – and yet it takes a fulfilled being to see itself as “empty.” Same for how the truly cognizant communicate – only the most perfect word can slip undetected past perfect silence… such memorable moments are mysteriously unnamable – designed to remain so.
Likewise, there is a beauty in not-having-anything that those-with-everything might miss. For everyone, life is a long blink… and all we seek to shed light upon is there in the dark. Sometimes that which we hope to see is persistent in remaining hidden; it is a revealing wisdom that we will make no effort toward our perfections, if the end is given to us first.
There is a peaceful calm in the burning desire to know oneself – I’d not know what to do, if I were not hidden.