Wandering around inside yourself one day, you find a closed curtain. It’s the sort of heavy, important curtain that usually hangs across a stage. What’s behind it?
Moving closer, you find an opening and slowly pull the curtain aside. Peeking in, you’re amazed by what you see – a huge space filled with living, changing forms. A vibrant universe of shapes, colors, and structures swirls in all directions and pulls at your heart with a sweet, aching gravity.
“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.
“Yes, it is,” a voice says nearby. He’s been watching you, standing guard on the outside of the curtain. Dressed as a trickster, as usual.
He knows what you want, but you ask anyway: “Can I go inside?”
Your heart sinks so low it just about falls out of your soul.
“You can’t go inside. But. If you bring everything that’s behind this curtain out there, outside of yourself. . .well, then you’d be ‘in there’, wouldn’t you? That’s how it works.”