Through the Prism

After passing through the prism, each refraction contains some pure essence of the light, but only an incomplete part. We will always experience some aspect of reality, of the Truth, but only from our perspectives as they are colored by who and where we are. Others will know a different color and none will see the whole, complete light. These are my musings from my particular refraction.



Mostly just that.

A recurring theme. Visited almost a year ago in the post Rekindling, which included:
I've said of a character in a book review: While being a very real, multi-dimensional (no magical pun intended) character, at his essence he represents that shallow, self-obsessed part of ourselves that refuses to find the magic in the mundane all around us.

I've also written: I do my best to pay attention to my surroundings and find things to marvel at, because that makes life more wondrous.  Because of that, I like to think that Life's More Exciting Inside My Head.
Related thoughts follow.

Quite recently, I've written another book review that included: A strong sense that even the most ordinary, mundane objects can be treasures with the right stories and histories, as can the people who find them. Every page was infused with a longing for lore.

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