Logic: “reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity”.
When your belief system is firmly rooted in logic, it’s somehow easier to make sense of the world around you, because with age comes a degree of wisdom. I can see the world around me using five senses, and years of experience make me believe I understand it, on a functional level at least. I look both ways before I cross the road, therefore I won’t get run over. If I get run over then I will likely die, and that will be the end of that because dead people can’t do anything. Esteemed with my worldly wisdom, gathered over 43 years, I considered the sight of a monk to be somewhat off-piste. How can anyone make sense of something like that? It’s not like he really did anything either, he just sort of appeared and stayed there, a bit vague and blurry too. Nevertheless, intrigued as I was and emboldened with the knowledge that a candle and a soft gaze seemingly produces a monk, I went through this ritual repeatedly and he kindly appeared on each occasion, although he might have been getting a tad bored of my compulsive need for visual evidence. On one occasion I decided to ask him what his name is but this didn’t elicit a response. Maybe I thought he would come booming out of the mirror. Some months later, a reply to my question did emerge via a psychic medium, who said I should stop seeking him out, rather he will find me. Trust. Trust didn’t sit well.
Several times I have been told that if I am to deepen my spiritual connection, I need to get out of my head. That logical head. So if logic is my addiction then trust is apparently my therapy.
Starting to see, aged 43 