The Ceiling Within

Once again today I'm thinking of the interior castle. That's one image for it. I like it, too, because castles are really something. I've never been in an actual castle, but seeing them in movies over the years has always been a treat.

I have some thoughts about seeing things in movies. For example, I have a hard time freezing what happens in this scene from what happens before and what happens later. I have a hard time watching a two minute scene, let's say, and feeling good about it. Because there's more around the corner, and it might all turn out badly. This relates to all the castles I've seen. They have the context of a bad guy lurking around the corner, people in the dungeon off their usual game, or an upside vampire crawling down the side of the parapet.

If you can freeze it like this: A movie that's nothing but a tour of a castle, stopping to examine things, no narration, no drama, that would be preferable. Since no movie like that exists, imagination has to accept the task. So we're left with an image, a castle, snipped from various movies, excluding all forms of danger and drama.

To me, things can be out of repair; I think that would match up nicely. I for one am getting older. My health care professional tells me I'm doing well, I told my insurance nurse I'm doing well, but I still might die at any minute, I don't know. Whatever the castle corollary is to that -- if the image stretches that far -- can be included, leaking pipes, flickering fire, cobwebs on the stairs, bats in the tower. It'd be hard to picture an actual castle -- not one of your billionaire's faux castles open for tours -- in the greatest repair. There's going to be corners and cracks where things are happening. Dust collects.

I wanted to say something about "The Ceiling Within," and this takes us to another aspect of the interior castle, the high ceilings. Am I saying enough about it? What do I see when I close my eyes? In terms of a ceiling. Rounded, dark, eyes darting too much, it would seem, to picture it. Shall I picture it like a castle ceiling? The walls aren't bricks. Maybe they're called big huge bricks. I wouldn't call them bricks. Stones. Very dusty up there, again, cobwebs. Solid construction. Built with extravagance. Still, somehow it's a lower ceiling.

There's anything I want to see. I'm alternating between the mental images I flash up, and the super images that are seen without imagining them. Those are two distinct places, distinct ceilings, or two aspects of the same ceiling. Which is easier to see? It makes little sense, but the latter, the super ceiling place. The images at the lower ceiling are there when you call for them. The second are there with every thought, but not strictly summoned, not arranged.

Would you like to see a glowing ball, perfectly white, with fuzzed edges? You can summon it artificially to this part of the ceiling, the lower ceiling. It takes its place in the parade of images. Your eyes examine its bottom, mid section, and top. You can turn it and see it go around or you can circle it. There's something concocted about it though. But without concocting, see the same ball -- your original flash -- all in a perfect standing, undeviating presentation, willed but not fulfilled by your own effort.

The ceiling within is where you can see everything you want to see.