What is special?
What is special? The rare object or special event seems to unravel, if only for a moment, the enigmatic relationship our presence holds with reality, even though it leans solely on the force of our own interpretation. Some years ago at night, just as I happened to look out the window, a greenish-blue ball of light streaked across the sky. But from the moment of seeing this object until the moment I was able to materialize its presence in words, a certain assurance arose, an absolute confidence that everything childish in my life up to that point was part of a process of realization and not an outcome of my success. I only had to let things arise and my doubts would cease; I only had to undo what I was trying to see and my anxiety would go. It was a part of reality that I had hardly ever seen; it was not a revelation, nor did I think some divine presence involved in it, but it was the circumstance that bade the whole realm of possibility, the whole realm of existence, mutual to
