What is truth? When Jesus stood before Pilate and told him that he had come to testify to the truth, Pilate famously retorted: âWhat is truth?â Interestingly, in the Koine Greek of John 14:6, Jesus refers to himself as áŒÎ»ÎźÎžÎ”Îčα (aletheia, truth).
âI am the way, the truth (aletheia), and the life.â
Aletheia is the opposite of Lethe, the river of oblivion flowing through Hell. The prefix âa-â is a negation. Thus, truth is that which that negates oblivion. Lethe concealsâaletheia reveals. Lethe makes us forgetâaletheia makes us remember. Aletheia un-conceals.
Aletheia is the unconcealment of what is hiddenânot merely a set of propositions. Thatâs what Jesus calls himself: the unconcealment of Being.
Truth is the disclosure of Beingânot sentences or propositions. Incidentally, for Heidegger, aletheia is the moment when beings âcome into the open.â When beings come into the open, they disclose Being. They reveal. Truth is revelation.
âEveryone is the other and no one is himself.â Heidegger
Until we come into the open, we are not ourselves; we are someone else. We live in concealmeant, hiding Being. Yet, our false self is transientâit will be consumed by Lethe. Everything that does not reveal Being will be forgotten. To rise above Lethe, we must embrace aletheiaâthe unconcealment of Being.
This is what Jesus meant when he told Pilate that he had come âto testify to the truth.â He was aletheiaâthe perfect unconcealment of Being. To be true is to participate in something that survives Lethe. Pilate was too steeped in the temporal and transient to recognize Being before his eyes.
âYes, says the Spirit, they are blessed indeed, for they will rest from their hard work; for their good deeds follow them!â Rev. 14:13
Whatever we have done within chronological time to transcend chronological time abides forever. It follows us. It has been salvaged from Lethe. It is aletheia. It cannot disappear. As Michelangelo said,
âThe true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection.â
In aletheia, we transform shadows into glimpses of divine perfection. These glimpses cannot disappear. We make âin the law in which we were madeââto borrow Tolkienâs phrase. We become sub-creators.
Having glimpsed divine perfection, we reproduce itâwe unconceal itâwithin the confines of our shadow world. The only way to salvage the world of shadows from falling into oblivion is to transcend the shadowsâengage in aletheia.
Whether we bake bread, write articles, share a conversation over a cup of tea, build cathedrals, or repair carsâif we glimpse and reflect the divine spark in what we do, we participate in the unconcealment of Being. In doing so, we transcend the shadowlands.
Everything in the shadowlands is a shadow until we see through it and partake of divine perfection. It is our inheritance by virtue of divine birth. We have that spark in us. We are that spark. We are shadows transcending ourselves by pursuing aletheiaâevery moment of the day.
How to remove the fear of death? Speaking of the beginning of days, The Silmarillion says that IlĂșvatar gave Men âstrange gifts.â First, he set eternity in their hearts so they would always desire to go beyond the visible world:
âBut to the Atani I will give a new gift.â Therefore he willed that the hearts of Men should seek beyond the world and should find no rest therein; but they should have a virtue to shape their life, amid the powers and chances of the world, beyond the Music of the Ainur, which is as fate to all things else.â The Silmarillion
Second, he gave them a gift of finiteness.
âDeath is their fate, the gift of IlĂșvatar, which as Time wears even the Powers shall envy.â
But what is there to envy? Why would even the Valar envy Men? It turns out that in the beginning, Men didnât fear death. Fear of death was instilled into their hearts by Melkor who deceived them by saying that it was Iluvatarâs punishment rather than a gift.
âBut Melkor has cast his shadow upon it, and confounded it with darkness, and brought forth evil out of good, and fear out of hope.â
Melkorâs shadow had a name; its name was Ungoliantâa monstrous spider born out of his envy. She was neither an Ainur nor Maiar. Most likely, she was Melkorâs Shadow-Self, his own insatiable darkness, which he feared. It was Ungoliant who first spun a spiritual darkness called Unlight, for it was made in mockery of light.
âThe Light failed; but the Darkness that followed was more than loss of light. In that hour was made a Darkness that seemed not lack but a thing with being of its own: for it was indeed made by malice out of Light.â
Ungoliant infused the first darkness with malice, filling it with ânets of strangling doom.â She cast Melkorâs shadow on it. Darkness became a source of existential fear. Later, Melkor cast his shadow upon the gift of IluvatarâManâs mortality. He deceived Men into believing that death was not a gift but a doom, and they started craving immortality. Eventually, they decided to seize it by force, which led to the fall of Numenor.
Melkor impressed upon the hearts of Men that death was a punishmentâa severing from Iluvatar. Distorted by Morgothâs lies, death became a mockery of Godâs giftâMenâs ability to leave the Circles of the World and be renewed. While the Elves were bound to the fate of the world, growing weary of its unending cycles, Men were granted the grace to depart and be renewed.
In the beginning, there was no more fear in dying than in falling asleep. Men knew they would get up âin the morningâ refreshed. They simply let go of their consciousness and slept, until newness, freshness, rest, restoration, and hope overtook them.
Curiously, most people who have had a near-death experience report that after their return, they no longer fear death. A friend of a friendâwho died of a brain tumor, saw heaven, and returned after being miraculously healedâsays she doesnât fear dying anymore. She says, there is no death. You donât even lose consciousness.
âWhat struck you the most in Heaven?â asked the person who interviewed her. She answered, âThat God is a Soundâan ineffable and irresistible Sound that you hear everywhere: in all things, in others, and in yourself.â
The French philosopher Paul RicĆur pointed out that, for the last two centuries, philosophy has been developing in the mode of suspicion. âPhilosophers of suspicionâ like Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Sigmund Freud, argue that when you believe you are acting for certain reasons, you often fail to realize that your actions are driven by hidden forces.
Marx suspected that all human actions were driven by economics, Nietzsche by the will to power, and Freud by the unconscious.
In other words, when you act a certain way, you may think you have clear reasons for acting this way, but in reality, you do it because of
1) economic conditions,
2) desire for power,
3) unconscious drives.
Philosophers of suspicion have led us to believe that thinking must be rooted solely in suspicion.
âWhat do we mean by âhermeneutics of suspicionâ? This school of interpretation involves a radical critique of consciousness, an effort to unmask the hidden meanings behind the apparent ones. It is a mode of interpretation pioneered by Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud, each of whom tried to expose the illusions of consciousness and reveal the structures of power, desire, and the unconscious that lie beneath.â Paul RicĆur
Thereâs nothing wrong with hermeneutics of suspicion as such. It is true that some human actions are driven by economics, some by the will to power, and some by the unconscious. But not allâand not always.
Paul RicĆur contrasts âhermeneutics of suspicionâ with âhermeneutics of trust.â Instead of deconstructing someoneâs meaning, he suggests assuming that there is one and seeking to recover it.
âTo interpret is to render near what is far, to appropriate what is strange, to make oneâs own what was initially alien. Interpretation, then, is guided by a âwill to trust.ââ
âThe witness testifies to an event which has touched him or her deeply, physically or morally. As such, testimony is more than a recounting of facts; it is an expression of responsibility, a call to remembrance and a summons to the ethical imperative of remembering.â (Memory, History, Forgetting)
A personâs actions may be motivated by economics, the will to power, or unconscious drives, but my goal in meeting them is to become a witnessing presence to encounter something wonderful. I become a witness because my primary motivation is to encounter a witnessâsomeone so full of wonder that you canât miss it.
The Greek word for âwitnessâ is ÎŒÎŹÏÏÏ Ï (martys), from which we derive the word âmartyr.â In ancient times, a martyr was seen as the ultimate witness. Martyrs witness to Wonder so profoundly that you canât help seeing it. Wonder is contagious. You read it off their faces. Their faces testify that they are above economics, the will to power, or unconscious drives.
Philosophy of suspicion cannot survive in the presence of a true witness. A true witness turns you into a witness too. As Wonder passes from one person to another, suspicion dies. When you see wonder in the eyes of a martyr, you stop seeking âexplanationsâ for their behavior. You simply stand there, stock still, smitten by the âwill to trust.â
As the Roman centurion exclaimed, âTruly this man was the Son of God!â
You are not naiveâyou know that at a certain level, a personâs actions may be caused by economics, the will to power, or unconscious drives. But not now. Not when you see âthat.â When you see that, you donât interpret. All hermeneutics ceasesâyou simply witness. You feel touched, moved. There is nothing in your mind except âthe ethical imperative of remembering.â
What is true art? Speaking of âThe Machineâ in On Fairy-Stories, Tolkien contrasts it with organic, sub-creative work of a true artist or storyteller.
By the [Machine] I intend all use of external plans or devices (apparatus) instead of development of the inherent inner powers or talentsâor even the use of these talents with the corrupted motive of dominating: bulldozing the real world, or coercing other wills.
So, what is the Machine? Itâs anything external I use to force my will upon the world. According to Tolkien, the Machine differs from Art (sub-creation) in that it arises from a desire to amplify self-will rather than from an attunement to the Music of IlĂșvatar.
All true Art, which is the province of the Elves, proceeds from oneâs inner alignment with the Great Music. The Elves first hear the Music and then express it through their Art. Their purpose is to attune to the Thought of IlĂșvatar in all things and to pour this harmony into the world. In contrast, the purpose of the Machine-creator is to attune to self-will and devise ways to impose it upon the outer world.
Art is prayer springing from: âThy will be doneâ; the Machine is anti-prayer springing from: âMy will be done.â Art is internal; the Machine is external. In The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien insists that evil cannot be defeated by wielding the Power of the Ring.
You can make the Ring into an allegory of our own time, if you like: an allegory of the inevitable fate that waits for all attempts to defeat evil power by power. Letter 96to Christopher
When we use external means to defeat external means we amplify the external means. The Machine perpetuates the Machine. Power cannot defeat power. Paradise cannot be achieved through external means. Only the renunciation of power can overcome power. Art is the ultimate renunciation of external power and amplification of the internal powerâthe intrinsic power of Being.
Thatâs why the Art of the Elves is not technology. It may look like technologyâElvish ropes, robes, fials, boats, lembas bread, blades, ploughs, bows, harps, bowls, etc.âits purpose is not domination but the manifestation of the Great Music in the world. All Art taps into spiritual power and brings it into the physical realm, which is the ultimate triumph over evil.
The âproductsâ of Art reveal the Music. Thatâs why the Elvish rope burns Gollumâs neckâhe canât bear the âsoundâ of the Great Music. Thatâs why all Elvish things ward off evil, not through external force but by the light they emanate. The âpowerâ of Sting lies not in its external properties but in how much Divine light it carries.
Elvish toolsâchisels, harps, hammers, bowlsâare not technology in the conventional sense of the word but an organic part of the creative process. Elvish boats are carved with Elvish knives, each infused with a prayer to Elbereth. Elvish tools are not âexternal meansâ to bend reality to the Elvish will; they are an outer expression of their inner attunement to the Higher Will. So, what is true art?
As Heidegger says in his essay The Question Concerning Technology, modern technology is not just an instrument â itâs a way of revealing (aletheia). It reveals how we view the world. It is a Gestell (enframing) â a rigid framework that configures our vision, causing us to see everything as a resource. Its purpose is to order and command nature, not to listen to its Song.
Because the essence of technology is nothing technological, essential reflection upon technology and decisive confrontation with it must happen in a realm that is, on the one hand, akin to the essence of technology and, on the other, fundamentally different from it. Such a realm is art.
Sunset at Horsehoe Bay, Magnetic Island, Queensland, Australia. A 2-section panorama of twilight colours and crepuscular rays, taken with Canon 60Da and 10-22mm lens.
What does it mean to be ordinary people? G.K. Chesterton famously said,
âThe most extraordinary thing in the world is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman and their ordinary children.â G.K. Chesterton
Dante was regarded as a poeta popolareâa poet of the peopleâand he took pride in that title. He was read and loved by ordinary people rather than intellectuals. When I first read The Divine Comedy in the early 2000s, most of it went over my headâexcept for a few haunting images from Inferno.
In the 14th century, however, ordinary Florentine citizens gathered money to establish a Dante cathedra (a professorship dedicated to Danteâs works) at Santa Maria del Fiore. Giovanni Boccaccio was the first one to occupy that cathedra and read Divine Comedy to common city folk passing through the cathedral on the way to work.
Somehow, culture has little to do with intelligence but everything to do with mysticism. Pure intellect is incapable of the one thing from which culture emergesâlove. Intellect shuns emotion and filters out what it cannot see, touch, calculate, or predict.
âIf it canât be measured, it doesnât exist.â Intellect is very good at constructing but very bad at creating.
âThe whole difference between construction and creation is exactly this: that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed; but a thing created is loved before it exists.â Charles Dickens
Ordinary people are extraordinary because they are lovers. They are never professionals but always amateurs (from Latin amor â love). They love, and thatâs why they are capable of creating. What is not loved, cannot be created â it can only be constructed. Constructed reality is artificial. It lacks the Love and Life that all mystics delight in, because they tread on earth and wander in fairyland at the same time.
âThe ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland.â G.K. Chesterton
Their mystical gaze pierces through the veil of the physical as an arrow of Cupid pierces the heart with love and desire. They understand that to truly dwell on earth, you must have one foot in fairyland. Without fairyland, there is no earth. With fairyland, there is both heaven and earth.
God himself is a lover, not a professional. He loved twilight before it emergedâthatâs why it emerged. The ordinary person, through their love of twilight, recognizes the essence of twilight. Particles of light is not what it is but only what it is made of. To love is the highest form of sanity. To be in the right mind is to delight in the twilight â in everything where heaven meets the earth.
What is the power of brokenness? According to Dr. John Gottman, extending kisses to six seconds may be a key to improving relationships. He also cites studies showing that people who are kissed regularly can live up to five years longer.
I couldnât resist the urge to look up the etymology of the word âkissâ when I heard that. Especially because in Russian (my native language), the word for kiss is closely related to the word âwholenessâ or âto make wholeâ (ŃĐ”Đ»ĐŸĐČĐ°ŃŃ = ЎДлаŃŃ ŃДлŃĐŒ).
Even though in English there is no obvious connection between âkissâ and âwholeness,â the old English âcossâ meant âembrace,â as in greeting. Maybe thatâs why a âkissâ was often associated with greeting, as in:
âGreet (or salute) each other with a holy kiss.â
Incidentally, the Greek for âgreetâ (aspasasthe) used in this verse also meant embrace. But there is another interesting twist to greeting or saluting which has to do with wishing someone health (or hailing). According to the etymological dictionary, âto saluteâ comes from Latin âsalutare,â which means âwish health to.â
The verb âsalutareâ is derived from the root âsolâ (Sun), which means âwhole, safe, well-kept.â In other words, when we âkiss â salute â embraceâ we make the person whole. Hailing is healing.
Healing is a profound mystery. Health has to do with wholeness, and wholeness has to do with being hailed or embraced. When something is broken, we gather the shards into an embrace and breathe new life into it (symbolically by kissing).
By kissing or saluting we return the person to âSolâ (the Sun in Latin) which symbolizes wholeness and safety. Kissing means returning the person to the Sun-wholeness. The Sun makes us whole. The mystery of healing is deep just as the mystery of brokenness.
Our brokenness is not a problem to be fixed but a mystery to be explored. It is something to watch as Jesus said to his disciples in Gethsemane:
âWatch with me.â
What did he want them to observe? He wanted them to participate with him in the mystery of brokenness being turned to wholeness. He who was broken by a kiss of a friend was made whole by the kiss of the Father.
âRighteousness and peace have kissed each other.â Psalm 85.
Does magic exist in Middle-Earth? After the Company had received miraculous gifts from the Elves of LothlĂłrien â lembas bread, ropes made of hithlain, superlight boats, and âmagicâ cloaks â Pippin asked:
âAre these magic cloaks?â asked Pippin, looking at them with wonder.
âI do not know what you mean by that,â answered the leader of the Elves. âThey are fair garments, and the web is good, for it was made in this land. They are Elvish robes certainly, if that is what you mean. Leaf and branch, water and stone: they have the hue and beauty of all these things under the twilight of Lorien that we love; for we put the thought of all that we love into all that we make.â
Whatever Elves make looks like technology but feels like music. They make in the law in which they were made. They infuse all they make with Music of Iluvatar whence they came. They hearken unto the Music and capture it in whatever their hands touch. All they create is prayer â attuning to the celestial Music and letting it flow into the world.
Music doesnât manipulate. Beauty never coerces; it invites. Take it or leave it. Itâs not going to force you. The Machine, on the other hand, does force. It is not made from a desire to capture the Music. It is made from a desire to dominate. The Machine is the opposite of prayer. Prayer is about: âThy will be doneâ; technology is about: âMy will be done.â
The heart of the Machine is bulldozing reality to fit my will. The heart of prayer is tuning in to the invisible Law behind all things and reflecting it in whatever you do. Thatâs why the art of the Elves is not technology even though it looks like technology. Their creations are spun from prayer â their attunement to the Great Music.
When you pray, you create art. When you seek to bend reality to your desires, you build the Machine. When you pray, you donât think about your desires â your only desire is to become small and be caught by the mighty Flow of Beauty. When you wish to dominate, all you think about is how to force the world to fulfill your desires.
The fundamental difference between art and technology lies in the will. Itâs either: âThy will be doneâ or: âMy will be done.â As Martin Buber pointed out, God is either Thou or âit.â When God is Thou, he invites you into a personal relationship with him â to join the Great Dance. When God is âit,â no relationship is possible. The only way to relate to âitâ is through domination.
When we donât see the Divine behind visible phenomena, we seek to dominate the phenomena. They become mere instruments to fulfill my wishes. If I see the world as âit,â not Thou, I create the Machine. If I see God as Thou, not it, I see his Presence behind all phenomena and create Art.
Art may look very similar to technology, but it feels like Music. Art is humble; its desire is to become small so the Music can be big. Thatâs why all the Elvish gifts had such incredible power. They were infused with the power of the Music of creation captured through prayer and contemplation.
âSpirit is not in the I, but between the I and the Thou.â – Martin Buber
What is the mystery of motherhood? When you read about the âhand of God,â itâs natural to imagine some sort of hand. Even though God is Spirit, we are told he has hands, feet, fingers, ears, eyes, face, etc. Apparently, such anthropomorphisms carry profound significance. Eventually, we realize that spiritual hands, feet, arms, and faces truly exist â they are realities of which our human hands, feet, arms, and faces are but shadows.
The phenomenon of Godâs spiritual hand was beautifully captured by George VI, King of England, who said at the beginning of WWII that he had asked God about the future of his people and God replied,
âGo out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.â
Somehow, we all know what a âspiritual handâ is. Most of us experienced it as children. Remember walking into a dark room as a little boy or girl, terrified of the boogeymen, ghosts, and monsters hiding in the shadows? The fear was overwhelmingâuntil the moment our mother took us by the hand. Suddenly, we found the courage to go in.
Deep down, we knew that our fragile mother could not possibly defeat all the fire-breathing dragons that lurked under the bed. But the moment we took her hand, we miraculously felt safe. We were utterly certain that somehow, she would prevail. She is the mother, after all.
The phenomenon of the motherâs hand is purely spiritual. Itâs paradoxical too â on the one hand, we know the mother cannot possibly prevail against such odds, and yet we feel totally secure as if she had hidden powers. As if there was more to her than met the eye. As if her gentle hand was a spiritual hand.
What is a spiritual hand? It is a hand that holds a power far beyond what it may appear to possess. It is infinite. It takes up certain physical space, but its reach is boundless and all-encompassing. True victory over fear is not when we can predict the future and make plans A, B, and C, but when we have the âhand of Godâ experience embodied in some material form.
We have had it in childhood when we held our motherâs hand. But this isnât the only way to encounter it. This experience can come to us in many ways and forms. Godâs spiritual hand is revealed through some physical medium. Spirituality is always revealed through physicality. âThe Word became flesh and dwelt among us.â
The hand of God is present here, too. Its mystery is always embodied in something tangible. We can see it in the smiles of our friends gathered around a dinner table. We can hear it in the rustling of autumn leaves beneath our feet. Or we can feel it when gazing into the eyes of a saint.
Its effect is irresistible â it calms us down and relieves our fears. Godâs spiritual hand is everywhere, but it must be recognized. It always hides behind humble appearances. Its power is immense but hidden. It invites us to look for it. To whom has Godâs hand been revealed?
âTo whom is the arm of the LORD revealed? For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.â
The motherâs hand is the ultimate embodiment of the mystery of Godâs hand. It is something humble and hidden in the physical world that nests infinite power. When we experience it, we become infinitely bold and happy. When we hold that hand, we can walk through any darkness.
We donât need certainty or knowledge of what lies ahead. We can step out into the unknown because we have something better than light â the experience of being held.
What is the truth behind optical illusions? âMy Wife and My Mother-in-Lawâ is a well-known optical illusion that presents two different images in one. It was created by the British cartoonist W.E. Hill in 1915. The drawing cleverly shifts between two perspectives: you can either see a young lady looking away or an older woman with a large nose and chin.
The paradox of all optical illusions is that the viewerâs mind cannot see two images simultaneously. It has to switch. This presents a huge philosophical conundrum â if people can look at the same thing but see two different pictures, how can we tell if thereâs an objective reality? It all depends on what you focus on.
The âahaâ moment comes when we discover the two pictures. Of course, we canât see them simultaneously, but we can switch between them. The very act of switching seems magical in and of itself â after all, we see that every line in every image is exactly in its place. Yet, the brain cannot perceive two things simultaneously â no matter how much we try.
So, what is objective reality? Can I look at something and definitively say, âThis isâŠâ? Unless I question how I see before I decide what I see, I donât really see. The âhow I seeâ always precedes âwhat I see.â Unless I question my semantics and see how I see, I will be under the illusion of seeing. As Jesus said, âThough seeing, they do not see.â
If I absolutize my way of seeing â my semantics â I will create an idol. I will say, âThereâs nothing else to see here besides what I see.â The absolutization of one perspective is the end of true seeing. It is semantic idolatry. An idol always arrests our gaze and does not let us see beyond.
The opposite of semantic idolatry is semantic transcendence. The moment I realize there are at least two pictures to see, I stop absolutizing my own. I start switching between the two. But I donât absolutize the second one either. Both are but shadows of reality, not reality itself.
When I realize that the âreal switchingâ is not between the two pictures (or two cultural semantics) but between shadows and Truth, I start seeing. My eyes open. Itâs not just a young lady or just an old woman. These are but shadows of reality. They are symbols that must be transcended. When I realize that my way of seeing is symbolic, I realize that all the symbols are real inasmuch as I see through them, not at them.
âGod is the coincidence of opposites.â Nicholas of Cusa
In God, all contradictions converge and are reconciled. Now we see partially, as in a mirror. Then, we will see face to face. In God, we see two (or more) pictures at the same time without having to switch between them because we see with the heart, not the mind. The heart perceives an old woman in every young lady and a young lady in every old woman. It doesnât mistake a symbol for reality. It transcends the shadows and becomes sane.
âThe ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic⊠He has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland⊠If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them. His spiritual sight is stereoscopic, like his physical sight: he sees two different pictures at once and yet sees all the better for that.â G.K. Chesterton (Orthodoxy)
In God, we see two things simultaneously. The mind cannot grasp the Whole â it has to switch. The heart can. Mystical vision is stereoscopic. It allows me to see the Whole without sacrificing either part. The moment I see God, I start seeing The Face behind every face.
What do Plato and C.S. Lewis have in common? One curious thing about Platonic ideas is that Plato used the Greek word for idea (ΔጎΎÏ, eidĆ), which means âto see,â to denote something one cannot see. For Plato, the idea of a thing is its invisible essence. A carrot can be seen; the idea of a carrot cannot. âCarrotnessâ is invisible.
And yet, Plato uses the word âΔጎΎÏ,â which means âto see,â to point to the invisible. Why? How do you see the invisible? In Platoâs mind, a thing is not in one of two states â existing or not existing. It can be in a wide range of states depending on how far it is from the Idea of the thing. The closer a thing is to the Idea of the thing the more it âexists.â
Thatâs why Plato uses the term âanamnesis,â which means re-collection,to suggest that learning is essentially the soulâs act of remembering something that it has always known from its existence in the realm of Ideas. The soul is from that realm. It recognizes the perfect Ideas behind the shadows of this world â or it doesnât.
Thatâs why human consciousness is symbolic. Whatever it looks at, it tries to âseeâ (ΔጎΎÏ) â or rather âsee through.â Its question is, âDo I recognize whatâs behind this thing or not?â For the soul all things are symbolic. It strives to see the primal creative Logos (the perfect Idea) behind all things.
âThey serve at a sanctuary that is a copy and shadow of what is in heaven. This is why Moses was warned when he was about to build the tabernacle: ‘See to it that you make everything according to the pattern shown you on the mountain.’â
When the soul creates, it always re-creates. It strives to remember what it saw in heaven before creating something on earth. It wants to create things that âtruly exist.â The more symbolic meaning it imbues in a thing, the more it reminds us of heaven.
âCreation happens when the conscious mind allows the deeper, unconscious forces to emerge and manifest in the form of symbols.â Carl Jung
Thatâs why C.S. Lewis says in TheFour Loves,
âThe most important thing a mother can do for her child is to show him that he does not need her.â
