Reading the question about perfection made me recall a night a few years ago when I closed my eyes before sleep and was pulled into a vivid landscape. In the darkness a kaleidoscopic vision unfolded, layers of colour and form spilling like a film. I saw towering mountains that glowed with an inner light, then oceans that rippled with silver threads, each wave feeling like a breath. The scene shifted to a vast crater on an alien world, its rim rimed with strange crystals. From that hollow emerged shapes that were both familiar and strange – one resembled an iguana, its skin shimmering, then it dissolved into pure geometry and reformed, as if testing the limits of my perception.
I sat there, eyes still closed, feeling a deep sense of belonging to whatever I was watching. Images were so crisp I could almost taste the salty air of the imagined sea, hear the distant echo of wind over the crater. Episode lasted several minutes, yet it felt like an eternity of learning without words. When I finally opened my eyes, room was ordinary, but imprint of that journey lingered.
That experience taught me that spirituality may not be a doctrine handed down, but a canvas we paint with our own visions. Perhaps the idea of a perfect God is just another story we tell ourselves, while real mystery lives in moments we create ourselves 🙂
