My ego is quite arrogant. It believes that it knows the game. It may not know all the details, the minutiae as it were, but it knows how all the bits fit together.
In a sense it is right. It does understand the form of knowledge. It has gazed upon the tree the leafs of which are separate items of knowledge (the basic form of which is o – o [This connects to That]). The leafs of which are interchangeable. But this tree, this knowledge is not real. It is not reality. It is a picture of what is real. If one gazes at the tree but ignores the ground, ignores that which the tree is an image of, then one has missed the point.
To truly see one has to not know. Once one knows, once things have been put into their categories, once things have been turned into leaves on the tree, there is a tendency to ignore them. To call them mundane and boring. The tree is a filter. It performs the function of a pair of sun-glasses.
When we were a baby we were dazzled by reality. It was all so bright and vivid. All so all-together-at-once that we couldn’t really handle it. So we began making distinctions. This/that. The first was probably me and not me. Then family and not family. The distinctions made at first were probably distinctions that directly concerned the baby. It didn’t care so much about locations in space. Which Is why babies are so amused by the Peek-a-BO game. But Mother – now it was very important to distinguish mother from other. Mother was milk, warmth, safety. Not-mother was hunger, cold, danger.
The thing is that in placing this go-between between us and reality. In planting this tree. We have forgotten about the wondrousness of the everyday.
I was looking at Elsa today and I didn’t see a dog. I saw this living thing. Not even that; I just saw something that acted. It made me laugh out loud it was so wonderful, so new.