Luminous Drops

A series of thoughts while surfing the morning of 10/29/21.

Luminous Drops

By Tyler Mobley

In a world of reminders, reflections of life’s unknowable center pass with utmost familiarity. It may seem obvious after the fact, self aware creatures are bound by the light they see, yet being of light their understanding of its spectrum is only limited by the spectrum itself. A Dude Where’s my Car’s “continuum transfunctioner, its mystery is exceeded only by its power.” Everywhere there is light there is a rainbow, put another way a rainbow exists in all the light we see. When the sun reflects off your phone and casts an iridescence on your hand grasping the wheel while you drive. The Dark Side of the Moon album put it right under our noses, but we only see so much with our ears. A lone beam passing through a prism becomes many as constituents are displayed. There we are, “the all singing, all dancing crap of the world,” pulling out our phones to capture through the clouds what we’d find if we’d look inside (Fight Club). 

A surf of revelation sets my receptors open to basement dwellings, a rainbow in the spray off the back of a passing wave shone in the low morning light. Thoughts come knocking, not one to wait is the self referential check in all things, the seed within the fruit. Arriving at Stan Tenen of Meru Foundation, “light in the meeting tent” occurs to relieve some insight. We are no different, take the formless, light, fire, soul, and pass it through the form, prism, water, body, and what appears? A rainbow. 

Soren Kierkegaard in The Sickness unto Death frames our condition as a relation to the relation. The central relation between formless and the form, the self is what becomes of the relation to the central relation, thus the self is inherently self referential. To become oneself, find you’re light among the rainbow. 

Links to

https://meru.org/

https://antilogicalism.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/thesicknessuntodeath.pdf

Clicking Reel

Clicking Reel 

By Tyler Mobley

Letting out line, mind a clicking reel, wonky

film projector tempting realities to

sprout from skull and politely ask the present 

for a dance, only to ruin her and take her place.  

Sea surface storms about how the heart wants 

if skin would show it, left with throwing rocks 

to ripple the calm, trusting it will return when 

our minds are ready. 

Marble monks on city hall contain all things and 

none with how they hold themselves,

conversing behind our backs, you’d swear on

their rolling eyes, unmoved movers of sacred bust.

Falling as a precious drop onto vacant dune, 

giving life to dust in a flood of visions, that

may last the next rain.