The honey jar is a clock and its facets tell the time. You can draw the honey jar anytime, day or night, winter or summer. And the sum of its faces are time spelled out in a recondite facet language of photons bouncing off flat glass surfaces. Now, I don’t pretend to be able to read this clock — nor do I know what its time tells. I only know that it provides a place to watch — a kind of scenic overlook — from which one gets glimpses of the Cosmos.
The colors in the facets are astonishing. I do try to paint them. But even in drawing them, though they aren’t recorded, I did see them. And these drawings that are etched in the mind — they do matter. Take heed what you look at, notice what makes you stare, or what images send you off into reveries. For they were etched into the drawing tablet of the mind, stored like accounts in a bank.
Do choose good things. Store up fine images in your mind. Think ahead like the bees who make their honey. Like squirrels who prepare for winter, find things to remember and put them somewhere where you can expect to find them again. And those memories will also be kinds of clocks, like the facets of the honey jar.