Sometimes you need to go far away to see clearly, and sometimes you need to come way up close and be overwhelmed by what it is you’re looking at before you can actually see it as it is – without colouring.
A combination of peering in the distance and blinking at proximity, gives a clear view. You need the opposites to achieve clarity. This can require travelling – mind travel, body travel – some combination of the two. To get in touch with your inner intelligence is not always easy.
Where does that confidence arise from, if and when it does arise? I don’t know. Perhaps it is going through a cycle a few times, and then seeing how you feel. Being drawn to, pushing away, feeling confused, being caught up in illusion, being disappointed but still in illusion….Stepping outside that cycle, taking a step well back, almost falling over the edge a few times, being enmeshed in the mire of confusion and unsettlement, not knowing what to think and feel.
And then, one day, you do just know. You almost don’t trust the feeling of knowing. But it persists and you feel – free….free for the moment, anyway. The cycle is deep and persistent, it can always start again.
It doesn’t make you any less feeling, any less compassionate. Perhaps it even makes you more so. Measurement is futile.
You do not need to tell the truth to anyone other than yourself. In fact, the need to speak, to tell – anything – diminishes – almost to the point of nothingness. It is at this point that you may begin to wonder about the relationship of insight – at what feels to be this very deep level – and creativity. It is at this point that you may begin to reflect on the self-indulgence of art.
And yet, it is art which can help us get to this brink. But it is not art which takes us past this point. It is practice.
For awhile now, I have been reflecting on how writing (read ‘art’/’creativity’) has come to feel like a pure self-indulgence, and a diversion away from self-knowing or self-realisaion. This has been a troubling and confusing thought pattern for me, so I have suppressed it at times and gone away from it, other times letting it bubble and resurface. It has made it hard to write, and I guess it still is – hard-er to write than it was.
But now I realise that writing enables the process, but is not enough in itself. Writing this has been easy.