Grace of Mind

The garden awaits like a white canvas before the brush. Its soil is black, lush and ready for any seed.

Figuratively, he is falling backwards. Literally, all his attention is absorbed in the mere motions of an act. He is searching for something. He tries to avoid any pretense; any assumption as to what it is he wants to achieve or attain. There is a problem, a gap that needs to be filled by a product devised wholly from a grace of mind. Such a head is humble for it quiets itself like a servant that quite clearly knows its place. It holds its tongue and kneels before a higher task. It knows the mess that can be wrought in conditions where freedom for it abounds. For there is no freedom for the whole when the head runs rampant.

A sentiment is very often shared by most of us — that we are clever, right and more or less know what is going on, both in ourselves as well as out into the world. This is, though, a rude delusion; a gooey layer of false pretense which hides the ineluctable truth. All of these cherished assumptions do nothing more than damn the fate of our feet to steps of eternal repetition, strolling like hamsters on a rotating wheel.¬†Derivatives, and the repetition of outdated models and fossilized traditions, are all that are afforded to us when we shun the mystery to everything. To assume, as they say, makes an ass of you and me.

Insight and innovation are discovered in the act. This phenomenon in some circles is referred to as prototyping. A man knows that conditions are continually changing. He is well aware that they stand on shifting sand and that traditions, like technology in our peculiar times, are always in need of renovation and replacement. So they innovate by following a process, meditating their way into a state of mind which lets go of what it knows and plays around, both figuratively and literally. They jump into a pit of sand like children and wiggle their toes until they begin to touch upon methods that prove useful to the aim at hand.

Insights come from a place in constant motion, and to fish from that sea, of course, requires movement. Yet movement in isolation is stupidity. It has to be enacted in connection to some form of feigning. He must play the role of an idiot and pretend to do outwardly what he inwardly is looking to discover. The parochial verdict will be to frown and disregard such silly instructions. Men with busy, chatty, flip-flop, minds will never bow to the fundamental laws of paradox; where only by seemingly going left will one end up in the right direction.

There is quite a bit of baggage that abounds on the shoulders of alleged grownups. But even the most callous of them can trial and test the truth of these ideas. To begin a task before one knows exactly how to do it is a fundamental condition to learning one’s own style and method. To solve a problem or predicament requires simply that one begin the process of solving it. With a blankness of mind and a complete absorption into the means, modes and motions that encroach upon the mystery of this magic, a man may hope to stumble upon a minor mirthful miracle.


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