My Eyes See Things That You Cannot See

Continue to persist in the memory of an image strong enough to not justify your duplication in the real world.

The rose is my image in another variant of reality, passed through the symbolic space of the vast, complex, diversified creation, of which God himself is proud, because His miracles relate to man through art and science. I truly believe in the beauty of the rose, a perfect, rare, pure beauty, so endearing, as I believe in the ideal of similarity that has not been abandoned in contemporary perennial creations, that I am able to say that the whole world is more beautiful just by looking at it with eyes that express what I feel deep inside me.

The day is getting longer. My garden is characterized by sunlight, more and more intense, increasingly shinier. Only one rose catches my eye every morning, Double Delight, for the idea of a demonstration of sacredness. With emotion, full of longing, I like to mirror myself in its beauty, full of reflections of light, as if I were mirroring myself in a dream that never dies, both as a way to freely enjoy the miracles of the Great Creation, belonging to the greatest artist of the Universe, as well as a way to acquire the virtues of double language, the same virtues that prevail over the forces of nature.

You will think that my eyes only notice the excesses of the compositional art, or maybe I only look at pure, sensitive and inescapable beauty, but the eye knows best that beauty is manifested by increasing the sense of responsibility given to approaching a reality within the meaning which I give to the measure of all things. This strange phenomenon, of the similarity between two distant languages, understood only by artists and the Creator, is called Luckonrethys, or the enveloping light of an eternity that fulfills our human purposes – by totalizing an existence that cannot be erased from the war of an artistic destiny.

Can you increase the quality of an image or vision that expresses the idea of ​​“Immortality of Creation” by living the experience of being one with the object of your admiration?

A different day is announced today. I will not speak to my rose again, but I will look at it closely, with pride, joy, or pain, in the measure of an astral conjunction, so that I may know whether the outward beauty of its eyes can capture the emotion of my soul, or better yet, the reality of my divine self. The rose does not wonder what reality is, why it exists in an astral space without limitations, but accepts it as it appears before its eyes, transposing it into a work of art, in a magical atmosphere, in an ideal of humanity, in a chance at life, in a call to art.

The Creator and his creation. The idea of resemblance to the object represented aesthetically is still alive through the nostalgia of those who dream of space explorers, strong in spirit, full of faith, keepers of secrets, without, unfortunately, waking up from their dream. And not infrequently, in the absolute freedom of creation, in the version of a new reality of life and thought, we witness a personification that is at the same time a deification of the modern artist, talented, sensitive, thanks to the contact with the life-giving body of the Word.

My dear rose, only God continues to speak to me about you, telling me in all ways conceivable about the attributes of holiness enlarged by the conjugated symbol in Saturn, with the aspiration to link the art of Kabbalah to the artistic mastery existing only in a sacred space, oriented in the direction of the supreme truth, Aminthymeress, or that which is beyond earthly space, beyond death, beyond this reality.

How do you share your experience of the unique from the perspective of unwavering faith in an ideal of authenticity understood as a penetration into a reality that omits its temporary dimension?

I continue to talk to the rose, calmly, candidly, with a lot of empathy, with nostalgia, as if I were interpreting some memories of visual sensations still totally unrelated to each other. And whenever I whisper in its ear the most beautiful words, like a confession to heaven, under the guidance of nature, I wonder why I am the only man able to do this in an astral projection anchored in the dream of an existence on the horizon of eternity.

And I continue to speak to it as it becomes part of me, of my dream, like a star shining unceasingly in the sky of a world near God. For the very measure of my own prudence, the determination to be part of something larger than my own person, is the continuation of the supreme dream from which a star is formed, and not some star, but a star which is constantly situated in its very plane. God, as a kind of memory that shines in the infinity of a gaze that avoids the gaze. The rose is the spell of a divine gaze that is lost in the light of my destiny.

Then, I break every rule and every barrier, like a true artist, and I get lost in the words of Umberto Eco, from the novel “The Name of the Rose”, so that you, faithful admirers of my art and seekers of good taste, can look upon me with starry eyes and glimpse the answer to the question: “Why am I, and only I, the destiny of a transcendent reality?”

“Jorge stretched out his trembling hands and pulled the book toward him. He held it open, but turned it over so that Guglielmo could see it in the best position.

- Then why did God let this text be lost over the centuries and only a copy be saved from it, so that the copy of that copy, which ended up who knows where, would remain buried in the hands of an unbeliever who does not know Greek, and then lie abandoned in a closed place in an old library where I, not you, have been called by providence to find it, and take it with me, and hide it for so many more years? I know, I know as if I see this written in diamond letters, with my eyes that see things that you do not see, I know that this is the will of God, whose interpretation prompted me what to do. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”

The ideal of modern authenticity is related to the view you attribute to the dualistic interpretation of suggestive reality in the emanating process of creation, living more emotionally rather, by interacting with a form of recognition of a personification growing in the planes of providence.

My Eyes See Things That You Cannot See because you are not yet ready to perceive a form of sensitivity and purity where no one focuses their gaze: towards the horizon of creation. That is, to the divine glory…