When I look back over my life, I remember all the countless people, places and incidents that engendered all those countless emotions. And none of them has any substance. They’re just memories; and memories, like photographs, are nothing more than two-dimensional shapes on a two-dimensional surface. Or at least, that’s how they seem to me most of the time. Where this gets interesting, however, is when I find myself projecting that perception into the present, and seeing even the now as nothing more than two-dimensional shapes on a two-dimensional surface.
It’s only when I move beyond the material and consider my relationship with spirit – the spirit of place, of nature, and of other sentient beings – that some semblance of substance starts to emerge. For me, it’s the spirit that forms the starting point on the quest to discover reality, not the material.
Which isn’t to say that surface appearance can’t be what attracts me to seek the spirit in the first place. That’s my excuse, anyway.
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