You can look at a thing and perhaps articulate a narrative chain of descriptors, adjectives, setting it in some context that makes sense to you and then, once classified and sumamrized, you can move on. And for must of us that will suffice. I came, I saw, I conquered. But beyond words, beyond what you may think you know about what it is that seems to appear before your eyes, is something ineffable, indescribable, beyond category and summarization. It is this penchant for quips and reduction that blinds us. Our eyes have become the least reliable of the known senses. We are duped by the speed at which we can seemingly know what a thing is. Vision, however, is not something achieved or realized through the body’s eyes. They are but one portal, one tiny hole in the collander. When I look at this, when I look at it, I am shocked, stunned and somewhat terrified. Because I cannot tell you what it is. I don’t know what I’m seeing. And I realize, almost 50 years since the light of this world graced my eyes, that I have not come, I have not seen, I have conqured nothing.
o O o