Today I saw a woman who engendered in me one of those sub-vocal “Mmm-mmm-mmmm” sounds — you know, picture of beauty and all that. Immediately after, I imagined her at home doing something not particularly interesting — the thought wasn’t even specific about the activity, but I just imagined that in spite of her looks, she was possibly incredibly boring.
There’s something about beauty that inspires the desire to connect, and there’s something about connection that points to the divine. But there always seems to be a wall where the divine/infinite should be. We are like birds flying towards a perfect sky only to smash headfirst into the window that’s reflecting it.