I think that my “fetish” for sacred text, comes from the fact that I am able to use my interpretative imagination indefinitely. Because sacred texts are suppose to come from a logic beyond human’s, it means much frikkin more than what the words say. As for books of fiction, my imagination is centralized in accord with what the author intended. You can only mind the text as the author allows you to mind it. But with a text in which the author is Infinite or No one at all, your mind is free to roam within the words and phrases.]Most importantly, sacred texts are deemed to be true by those who believe in them, as opposed to books of fiction in which even its author and the genre’s name recommend a disconnection between imagination and reality.
In the end, these amazing things I read are just words; the eternal value comes from the processes that my mind makes because of these words. What is my mind doing? How can I control it to do this?
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