I'm thinking about when words fail. Any strong emotion makes speech seem inadequate, and great beauty viewed often has the same effect. My husband, daughter and I are visiting a Turner show at an art museum this morning, and knowing Turner's work, especially this late work, I expect to be at a loss for words. I carry a little art journal with me when I see shows, but inside you will mainly find the date and show as well as the names of certain paintings or sculptures I especially admired. I seldom get to any kind of expressive description. I love that about art and music: the heart is exploding and the voice silenced. Any words I speak seem woefully inadequate.
This is why meditation is steeped in silence. Something deep is going on, too deep for words to penetrate. The silence is like a blanket wrapping me up in the Buddha's embrace.
I am grateful I still have enough vision to see these amazing works of art, and experience the joy of timeless devotion to the natural world and human beings' ode to this amazing, dazzling universe in which we are temporary guests.
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