What the eclipse looks like from here

Hiding beyond the shield of darkness there is fire, like the turtle quickening beneath its shell.

Naught Thaught's compelling post on the black sun contrived a meeting between me and my profound ignorance, which I experienced in too much relief trying to understand Reza Negaristani's comments.

I'm grateful. I haven't had this date in a long time, the sense of trust in that which I can't know, or what I once knew but have forgotten. I'm not talking about Reza's writings now, although I'm sure they're worthy of the effort it would take me to crack his code. I'm talking about trust in the great unknowable that lies behind the intricately woven shield of ignorance we inherit as human beings, having been seduced by the delicacies of time and place by the likes of succulent apples, jewel-toned pomegranate, sweet-tart tamarind, attraction and aversion.

How often do I feel that the darkness I call my blindness is alive with wisdom hidden from me? How often can I feel the company of the sublime darkness of a black sun hiding supersensual rays I'm not strong enough to absorb, meted out only in increments equal to my receptivity?

I don't stand here below the dark sun nearly enough, not cowering, but in wonder at the infinities articulated beyond my comprehension.

BTW, I expect I'll edit this and add to it later, because there's a lot of strands regarding limitations of sight. For instance, those included in the raw material of the comment I left at Naught Thaught, below. Please forgive all the self-quoting, it's just that I think my mind got places at that moment I can't get back by any other route. So here goes:

I’ve been compelled by the subject of your post for some reason, and now it seems like you were anticipating today’s eclipse. Today the black sun also reads to me as what is incomprehensible or unseeable, blocked by something, swallowed by a monster. And in trying to read Reza’s comments, I feel like my intellect has been swallowed by a monster, or perhaps it never amounted to much than that of wood lice. My eyes! My eyes!

The subject brings me to a level of faith in the virtue of all the workings of the universe that are unknowable to me because of the limitations of my instruments of knowing, and I always appreciate becoming aware of that aspect of my blindess, which seems to bring me a little closer to whatever is on the other side of the shut door, the black sun. Reza’s meanings, in all their richness, for example. Out of my reach, but still resonating. (OK, I do get the Reich paraphrase, which is lovely.)

This is Bloodcore posted this selection from the Popol Vuh today, also commentary on what prevents seeing/knowing:

“The first men to be created and formed were called the Sorcerer of Fatal Laughter, the Sorcerer of Night, Unkempt, and the Black Sorcerer… They were endowed with intelligence, they succeeded in knowing all that there is in the world. When they looked, instantly they saw all that is around them, and they contemplated in turn the arc of heaven, and the round face of the earth… Then the Creator said: “They know all… what shall we do with them now? Let their sight reach only to that which is near; let them see only a little of the face of the earth!… Are they not by nature simple creatures of our making? Must they also be gods?”

Perhaps we can only see what we are equal to, and the black sun acts as gaurdian of powers we haven’t earned, or are unable to resonate with, but which we hope to steal. Consider me kneeling here with my ear to the door.