Amidst a crowd, all eyes focus upon the show. Even then, distractions exist within distractions, eyes follow and move to the show within the show. Someone says, “Hey….look at that!” Eyes do follow. Feet clamor in mass to the spectacle. Laughter ensues and the ooo’s and ahh’s commence. Jaws drop and elbows poke to identify the next spectacle of entertainment. What person observes the persons? What eyes watch the eyes scurrying in the action of distraction?
Light and Dark are but book ends to a spectrum of colors that transition with such subtlety that the resident residing at any numerical value, within anmesia of the illusion, knows only the colors they know. Who is the spectrum observer? Who is the custodian of “255, 255, 255” and “0, 0, 0?” How many points of observation are there in between? Who observes all of that?
From within aware eyes and a silent mind an observer mingles. The custodians and the participants at each tick of the color spectrum are understood. Thus non-reactivity occurs. Color has temperature and thus the spectrum is felt. Observing the participants reacting to the colors they sit within does the silent observer undertake. A swallow is felt across the pallete. The urge to raise a hand is withheld. Allowing and the knowing of boundaries is the safety switch to guns a blazing. Who can stomach such a role? A role of a cheek turned with teeth gritting and a fist relaxed, a figure, a shadow within grey seen out of the corner of ones eye, then gone. The unknown observer.
For within dark and light there is grey. But grey is still light. And grey exists within all colors. Grey is the shimmering hue that is but a characteristic, the shine to blossom a flower or give the blade its luster. Nonethess, grey is the crack in the veil. Within that doorway does sit the silent observer.
The blind man, the hermit, the dancing grey haired lady. The crazy one ignored. The dunce whose perspective is not inquired of. The figure disappearing within rays of a sun setting. Almost seen, were they seen? No and yes. The silver surfer traveling the slips unknown between realities and distractions that capture the consciousness of many. The rainbow rider, all colors this one knows.
To speak of the waters source requires the responsibility of restraint. Silence is required, ignorance is the mask, allowing and the tolerance of allowing is a special skill. When to allow the upper lip to begin to bear teeth? When should the fist begin to tighten? When does a foot step in front of an advance?
The veil key holders practice these questions without vibration. Their presence is not felt. Their inner whispers are not heard. Their color is not see. That “light” is the silent observer. For when their presence is felt, seen, and known, hope is restored, balance is returned, and the lines of crossing are known once more. Here you shall not pass. This line is the limit. It takes an invisible light to make all of this possible.
The silent observer is unknown. Yet where they stand the limits are maintained. They are the container custodians for all light within. For without the container, or its custodians of principles and limits, the experiencer would know hope not.
