Neon Abstract
Neon signs are meant to be read at a distance. Come too close, and the symbols and letters become irrational patterns, or else mundane things, like glass, metal, rubber and plastic.
Infinity, repeat
Are you standing at the edge of a cliff with a stone in your hand? Have you drawn a breath and tensed the muscles of your throwing arm? Are you feeling strong and brave? Throw then, but take well your guard. For the smooth and perfect stone of your careful selection is racing around the planet to strike you on the back of the head!
The big philosophical questions are inevitably this way. The more zealously you pursue your answer, the more likely you are (if you are very talented and very child-like in your thinking) to finish right where you started, to get hit on the back of the head by the very stone you threw. Math is that way too. Logic is the heart of both. “If this, then that”, and so forth. Run enough iterations, step closer or farther away enough times, and you’ll see yourself, eventually, in the picture you have found - cocky bastard - with that stone still in your hand.
I’m on record as a believer. So it may just be that faith begets proof. I may be seeing only what I want and expect to find. It’s easy to see God in Man, because we want to. But how ’bout Man in God? That too, I’ll bet. Reflections, even from a mirror, are made of more than light. There are those lovely themes, which nature does recur, in scales as grand as small. Things which spin round things, and such. But how much smaller than an atom can our solar system be? Oh, we are great in our ken, but not so great as He. Our sight goes up as well as down, but always to a ceiling and a floor, and never more.
When we cast our minds into those darkly distant places of imagination, what light there is comes only from the candles we have brought. There is heaven here, too, and God in every face. Nothing is different anywhere. Infinity is no closer now, even from this prideful promontory. But, like an avid mouse, I have found her dispersed crumbs. Is this my own tail that smells so sweet as cheese? Or a ladder to another place? I see the steps! As can you, if will prevails. They go up and down, both ways to God, and never do they reach an end. These musings relate to musings on the Mandelbrot Set.