Bok Tower - July 2018
Page 1: A Return to the Tower
There are places.
There are places in this world that have been so arranged, so constructed, as to deny one the remotest possibility of ever plumbing their depths all the way to the bottom.
Places where the lens of human achievement has focused the light so brightly as to, curiously, inflict a sort of blindness upon those who look at them.
Places so possessed of beauty, harmony, richness, and detail, as to overwhelm sensory input in ways that will prevent you from ever absorbing it all, understanding it all, or even imagining it all, even as you stare directly at it.
And yet these places are just as real as are the stone, glass, metal, wood, finished surfaces, and other physical manifestations which they are so deceptively made of.
There are places where the brilliance of human endeavor shines so brightly as to burn holes in things.
Places that have the power to return hope to those who may have lost it. Those who have seen too much of the dark ends of what people oftentimes do to one another. Those who have been abandoned by their own souls.
The list of these sorts of places is surprisingly long, but because they are scattered across a very wide world indeed, you do not come upon them so very often, and sometimes you can be caused to forget that any of them exist.
Bok Tower is one of these places.
You must return to it.
You must be caused to remember that such places exist.
You must be rediscovered by your own soul.
There are places in this world that have been so arranged, so constructed, as to deny one the remotest possibility of ever plumbing their depths all the way to the bottom.
Places where the lens of human achievement has focused the light so brightly as to, curiously, inflict a sort of blindness upon those who look at them.
Places so possessed of beauty, harmony, richness, and detail, as to overwhelm sensory input in ways that will prevent you from ever absorbing it all, understanding it all, or even imagining it all, even as you stare directly at it.
And yet these places are just as real as are the stone, glass, metal, wood, finished surfaces, and other physical manifestations which they are so deceptively made of.
There are places where the brilliance of human endeavor shines so brightly as to burn holes in things.
Places that have the power to return hope to those who may have lost it. Those who have seen too much of the dark ends of what people oftentimes do to one another. Those who have been abandoned by their own souls.
The list of these sorts of places is surprisingly long, but because they are scattered across a very wide world indeed, you do not come upon them so very often, and sometimes you can be caused to forget that any of them exist.
Bok Tower is one of these places.
You must return to it.
You must be caused to remember that such places exist.
You must be rediscovered by your own soul.
And so, as you allow your attention to be absorbed by first this thing, and then that, you quickly realize that even the least of it, even the smallest parts of it, contain sufficient life, detail, and story, to fill the entire day, all by themselves, and you will never have time enough for all of it, or, really, any of it.
Which then gives you release to just immerse yourself in all of it, knowing that there is so much all around you, staring you squarely in the eyes from very close range, that you'll never see, never know, never come to full and complete terms with.
The richness of it all is overwhelming, and can impart a vague feeling of wistfulness for that which you will never gain the ken of, even as that which you do saturates your senses to the point of overload.
Which then gives you release to just immerse yourself in all of it, knowing that there is so much all around you, staring you squarely in the eyes from very close range, that you'll never see, never know, never come to full and complete terms with.
The richness of it all is overwhelming, and can impart a vague feeling of wistfulness for that which you will never gain the ken of, even as that which you do saturates your senses to the point of overload.
