This is not what I meant to write but this is what came out. I guess the moral of this story that would apply to all aspects of our life, including work, is that clarity comes with reflection and ellumination.
I am alive to beauty and therefore to truth.
I see and feel the truth in light and in the light strained by leaves and filtered onto the crumpled pastel sheets that heap on the corner of my stiff mattress.
I hear the truth in a song, the notes telling stories of memories, yearnings and emotions. The notes are brought out of an instrument that by its curves evokes a woman's body and is hugged and caressed, held close by its mysterious but determined lover.
White warm light is falling everywhere and reveals more depth of beauty than I have ever been aware of..
Truth and beauty are my own perception and there is a poignant beauty to be found by spending time graduating through the layers of subtleties. Each shade of grey reveals its own intricacies of shape, form and terrain.
As the white warm light falls on my heart and soul each sight, sound, texture, taste and emotion is elluminated as never before.
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty" John Keats.