karen armstrong, one of my favourite religious thinkers, said that god can in no way be defined, but can possibly be compared to that pregnant silence which ensues in between the ending of a symphony being played in a concert hall and the beginning of the applause. such meaningful slots of outward emptiness and inner fullness are the portholes into the unfathomable depths of existence, and they leave us awed and puzzled. the glimpses into the deep ocean of metaphysical meaning occur spontaneously, even throughout dull daily routines, not just amid superb artistic or spiritual events. they can be seen as the dots which connect the outlines of what really matters in our lives. taking a shower, waiting at a check-out line, being stuck with the workload - instances just happen when i lose track of who, or where, or what i am. it takes a few moments of resetting to come back down to earth. but during those temporally brief moments there's an intimation of something greater, something comprehensive, warm and dark, deep, essential, illogical. does it mean that we are constantly floating on an ocean of deeper truths, and that sporadic reflections of its shiny surface on our minds reassure us about why it makes sense to live? or are those just sparklings of our own jumbled thoughts and emotions? i would love to believe that the first, not the second question can be answered positively. however, i do not have any proof for it, neither does anyone else for that matter. what remains is to either believe or not believe, both of which is perfectly fine.