Tonight I’m seeing pictures.

The first one is of a portrait of a man with black hair, but gears, wheels and mechanical parts are strewn across what would be his face. Six smoke stacks belching pollution protrude from his skull. The caption underneath reads: “Mind”

Even if you could, mind reading is not very useful or tasteful. For if you tried to actually delve beneath the waves of a person’s inner monologue, you’d encounter a labyrinth of machinations held together with mental duct tape and broken rubber bands. Our minds are simply a mess.

Sometimes more so than others. Right now, mine certainly is. Of course, I would like to clean up the cranial mess beneath my skull, and while I have many tools, I need some advice, so I keep looking for pictures.

The second image is of a woman seated inside a large lotus leaf looking at the night sky full of stars, galaxies and wonder. The caption reads: “Existence”

Cleaning the mind is not a goal, but a step. A step towards remembering the magic and awe around us. While a comet is just a bunch of dirt and snow, its composition makes it no less beautiful when it orbits the sun.

The next picture is a series of white lines on a dark blue sky and a dark blue sea. It is unclear what, if any, symbols or images form from the lines. But as I study, I begin to see the form of a woman with arms outstretched and a lotus flower in front of her face. The caption reads: “Receptivity”

But the woman, in revealing herself, still hides. In opening herself, still protected. The breath goes in, the breath goes out. The heart pumps in, the heart pumps out. The images come in, the wisdom comes out…

The next picture is of three people dancing in the rain. Not just any rain, but a monsoon as the wind is blowing leaves in swirls around the dancers as if nature is also dancing in the storm. The caption reads: “Celebration”

It is a celebration of the world, of the struggle, of the suffering. I suppose it is embracing the strife and stress that can add greater joy if we can just enjoy it.

The next picture is of a man with his feet on one cliff and his hands on a cliff on the other side of a great chasm. Is he keeping the cliffs, like ships, apart on the sea? Perhaps, like Atlas, he is balancing the many pulls on his body. Should he pull in, drop, and enter the unknown? Or perhaps, just relax but not give up?

An image appears next to this one. An image of my grown daughter with outstretched arms and flanked by a large halo or ring of light… it looks like a white version of the tire she swung on this evening underneath a large oak tree. An inflatable ring she could toss her drowning father. “What are you tossing me?” I yell over the waves. She calls back, “Me!”

The last image is of a woman with an orange robe and hood. she gazes intently at the autumn plumage on a tree branch in her arms. Her downward gaze makes her appear in prayer. The caption reads: “Experiencing”

True experience of the present is rapture.