So, there is a Secret Art defined…
Some things speak to us: they are intricate, scientific, complex, inviting, technical. I always understood mathematics – to some degree. Logarithms could be exponential, or just plain boring. “Algorithms” can be a matrix of proportional expressions that Google uses to judge a website’s worth.
Or an “algorithm” could be the matrix of your dysfunctional family’s ingrown communications protocols. The matrix we grew up in, is sometimes the matrix we still sit in, unless we’re truly “left home”.
Sometimes, you have to “leave home” to find home.
Or … let’s just say ALWAYS.
A MANDALA, according to my momentary cauldron of uninhibited thought processes, is a symmetrical chemical arrangement, where eons of light have traveled through several Milky Ways, just to fall on your cheap computer screen and arrange “pixels” – made in China – in a way that reminds you of your innate and deep core or center.
I am awed by this sort of thing.
Partly because of the inherent beauty in such an easily-contrived mixture of bad photography and good computer graphics. Partly because it speaks of the Unlimited Arrangement of Things Possible.
Remember what we saw through our Closed Eyes and Open Pupils back in the sixties? We don’t forget that because it spoke to us. Again: about the Deep Arrangement of Things that Occurred Long Before We Were Born.
And the Voice it spoke with is the Voice that is still speaking. The Deep Arrangement of Things. The Arranger. The Lone Arranger.
It’s kind of like the Inner Florist Shop of God. Contains all these Astounding Blueprints of Life. Molecular Chemistry that would blow David Suzuki’s Fuzzy Skull apart. Things Secret to us that are Beyond Sacred, known by All, Discussed by Few, Enjoyed by only a Handful.
And offered to YOU.