Searching in the depths, needing no answers

Listening to the invisible is analogous to the thinking that observes its own nature. It is a thing, a phenomenon, that perceives its own perception symbolically at once universal and particular. Universal, since it transcends thought; particular because it relates to certain parts of the self—as per being alive. My compass in this piece of the territory of the self, which I call ‘the invisible’—I’ hesitate to label it—consists of moments escaping the outer world by immersion into the inner. I believe most people have experienced, at least once in their lives, these moments as well.

Having begun in such a way, I want to clarify that I am not trying to theorize or explain this invisible part of myself to which I listen from time to time. However, it is an inner dialogue, an intuitive layer of the self that brings raw material from within. This dialogue, a momentary experience or perhaps a percept, grows amidst the noise of existence, echoing tranquility and mental clarity. Thus, below, I will bring nine short paragraphs. Nine passages come from past notes where I document moments after meditation. Although I am still exploring these experiences, I intentionally leave them layered with abstraction.

Before I begin these nine passages, I would like to share a line from the work of J. E. Cirlot’s A Dictionary of Symbols.

“In alchemy, chaos was identified with prima materia and thought to be a massa confusa from which the lapis will arise.” ¹

To align with my perspective, chaos should be regarded not as a construct that our conditioned mind has established for centuries. Instead, chaos is the container for all elements and conditions that combine to form physical order. Moreover, predetermination should not be mistaken for the mechanism of the conditioned mind. Let’s stop here and jump to the nine paragraphs that I want to share in this article. For information, the content of these paragraphs comes from personal notebooks written between 2012 and 2018.

Listening to the invisible

In the darkness of an abstract space, I hold the element that welds the worlds together. Construction and destruction flower from a single seed, from which neither good nor bad can be distinguished in human language or mind.

I have allowed you to create form from the sprouts of my own flower and from the seeds of the seed. For this is what you are at your deepest core, and it is you—in your many forms—who resemble what I am in the single core of my existence.
I reside in feeling, at the core of your emotion. My depths are found in darkness, and my seeing comes with the light. I move through lines, and I see beyond the surface. I can see even where the physical eye cannot. I am always a dialogue—communication between and communication itself—cutting through the depths of the deepest waters.
When people lose connection with nature, they lose connection with the spirit, and their soul struggles among the rest. Thus, they lose themselves as well. What remains is a body reduced to serving only its basic function—a mere vessel, devoid of soulful form, standing as material blind despite open eyes.
Life is a stream of a universal river.
It changes along the way.
Indeed, the stream can carve its own path.
Step by step and time to time, its tide opens new trails, branches, and ponds.
It returns to the source from which it flows again.
You may say there is a beginning and an end—a matter of mind and language—but for the thing itself, there is no such division.
It is valuable to see creativity—its energetic field—as an escape from an already constructed culture: from the walls of psychic confinement, away from oppressive systems, and free from mental unawareness.

Creativity is a process of destruction—dismantling unnecessary indulgences involuntarily absorbed throughout life. It destroys and creates anew, only to destroy again. It is up to you to decide how this process will unfold.
You will never find true meaning in an artwork at first glance. You need time to build a connection with it. For this connection to happen, you must break the mechanisms of your predetermined mind, where expectation and narcissistic impulses no longer drive your vision.
An artistic work is the physical manifestation of a metaphysical life. It is something that cannot be confined within physicality. Instead, this metaphysical existence completes the physical form—or the body.
You wander in the midst of your desires, mirroring the motion of a bee searching for nectar. It is a realm where you meet a thing—a frightened thing, trembling as it draws closer under your shadow. Then, it moves away. Even so, you continue to wander.

Flowing thoughts of that thing become a search for answers. The more you think about it, the more your feelings project your desires onto it. It approaches again—seemingly once more frightened—then moves away.

As long as you do not see the fear you are projecting onto it, you will remain conditioned to feel more frightened than the thing itself.
In the mechanisms of your perception, life experiences are influential factors.

These experiences weave themselves uncontrollably into your psyche, structuring a ‘preformation’ of each thought moving through your mind and leaving traces of memory. Neither good nor bad, these traces will predetermine the trajectory of your thinking. Therefore, you should understand how these traces form the basis of your perception—and how perception is conditioned by the already dead processes of past thinking.

End note

In this exploration of the invisible, I have sought not to explain but to point toward an experience—a moment of connection, of introspection. These reflections are, here and there, to open spaces where thought and feeling, memory and vision, coexist. As you read these words, I invite you to listen to the silent dialogues within, the subtle movements that break the noise of the world. For in the invisible, there is always something authentic to discover. Perhaps, in the quiet spaces between speaking and thoughts, you can begin to hear the deeper truths of who you are.