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 my own poor and daily life: the sky must be dark if it is to be lit up.  Superiority, the hierarchy of individuals, and of ideas, are merely human games, whereas the quiet look into the true nature of our being is the unique aim of reality.

 Douglas Thornton