When ego is unclean, it distorts those rays. That distortion comes from trying too hard to interpret the environment. E.g. trying to get reality to fit into the mental model instead of changing the mental model to fit reality.
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Because distortion and non-distortion look the same in the dark, you also bump into moments of beauty more often. Though they're small matchstick fires. The depressive artist sees these brief moments of beauty and tries to shine it into the world.
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'Successful' artists inspire the crowd to wave their lighters in the air. They create a sea of small flames, that then extinguish.
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Though beautiful, they never found a fuel source and their light went out. They kept trying to make things catch fire. They kept trying to make it into the world. They forgot that they themselves were all that they needed.
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Artists that succeed in catching fire don't stay artists. Their passion has connected to their lives. They're far more like Da Vince or Steve Jobs.
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For artists who never catch fire their legacy lives on though. Like buried flint and stone, they recreate sparks lifetime after lifetime.
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Nowadays we're in a sea of constant sparks, firework after firework. Never ending, yet also never warm. Just smoke, loud sounds, and blinding light.
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This fuel to burn. It has gone. We have lost ourselves, by trying to find ourselves. Chasing the sparks, we wandered away from the warmth. We wanted to be cool. Now look... the sun is setting. A new day tomorrow.
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