Chihuly glass, Bellagio Hotel lobby, Las Vegas
Detail from giant, stained glass leaf,
Conservatory and Botanical Garden, Bellagio Hotel, Las Vegas
The journey is like cleaning out the river, clearing away everything that might impede the flow, anything that might trip up the miracle of love in motion, all of that stuff that I think is me. What is me? My voice? My mind? My body or personality or talents or thoughts or beliefs or experiences? None of that is me. Identification is like lead.
The body becomes an open vessel for the energy of creation, everything moving light lightning, like light through glass, projecting spectral, holographic images that reflect endlessly upon each other. Are you that projection? Am I? I don't think so. We are the infinite play of light.
No comments:
Post a Comment