The Hidden Meaning of THIS
Before I had ever been to New York City, I had a dream that I was there on a busy street near the corner of a tall building, and there was this black guy standing behind these large dark wooden carvings that were like paintings, but carved into wood. I’d say they were about 4 feet wide by 5 feet tall, and I noticed that in each one of these very beautiful and intricate carvings was hidden the word THIS. The artist, the black man, was just watching people walking by, no one stopping, and I said, “I noticed that in each of your carvings, you hid the word ‘THIS.’ That’s so beautiful.” And I went on, “I learned about THIS by taking psychedelics.” And he smiled and said, “That’s how I learned about THIS too.” And he said, “Follow me, I want to show you something.” And he walked out from behind his carvings and walked around the corner to the right and into the large double doors, and we started to climb up a winding staircase, and at each turn, he got further and further away from me, until I could no longer see him. There were no floors or doors. I continued to climb, spiraling up until I came to the top, where there was a line of people waiting to get into the adjacent room, and there was a woman sitting at a desk with a clipboard. There were large glass windows and I could see into a classroom, but I could not see the black man who wanted to show me something, but there was no other place to go but into that room. The line didn’t seem to be moving, so I decided to just walk into the classroom to wait for the black man. I looked up and immediately saw that I was alone in the room, and no black man either. I’ll wait. I started to feel a little funny and I looked down at my hands on the desk, and they were black. I was the black man, and I thought back to his art and the hidden meaning of THIS.
IN THE PLACID TERROR of ecstatic contemplation, revelation comes not by deduction or induction, but by disintegration and integration. Here, melting into the kaleidoscopic wings of a Butterfly, language laughs in a contorted brilliance, collapsing letter and number into the blazing Geometry of an Unspeakable Word. Here, in the dying and the being born, horns snap twisted white light off the thorny crown of a Dark Angel, who hangs upside down, crucified, in the pregnant substance of space. Dancing naked and alone, mythos and psychos are logical and the Morning Star still brings The Light.
‘JAH’ is a Map of God in morpheme structure. The ‘J’ is an A-XIS POLE MADE OF LIGHT, a flame, the Wizard’s Magic Wand, burning inside the First Letter of the ‘A-lphabet,’ a cone. The French added the minuscule to the bottom of the ‘J’ in the Middle Ages, “ostensibly, to differentiate it from an ‘I’ tilted to the right.” ‘Ostensibly,’ ‘APPARENTLY OR PURPORTEDLY, BUT NOT ACTUALLY.’ The miniscule is a Symbol of Return.
