In the ancient text, Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, we encounter this very dilemma. It speaks of a place where "the yes and the no appear at one and the same moment… These are the opposites: the one contradicts the other." Think about that for a second. It's not just about holding two opposing ideas in your head. It's about them existing simultaneously, intertwined.
The text goes on to say that we can't even grasp how both "yes" and "no" can apply at the same time. It’s not that we understand they are both contained within something. No, the uncertainty runs much deeper. First, we see it one way, and then, just as quickly, it seems like that wasn't the case at all.
Imagine trying to hold water in your hands. The moment you think you have it, it slips through your fingers. That’s the essence of this idea. Certainty becomes impossible, because one moment something contains the "yes," and the next, it emphatically does not.
The Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah tells us that all the interconnections, all the inner workings, are concealed within the "interior of this Head." This "Head" isn't a physical head, of course. It’s a metaphor for the highest, most unknowable aspect of the divine. This "Head" radiates through the mystery of its rulership, which is essentially what determines the direction of the governmental order. In other words, the way the divine “shines” determines how things unfold in the world.
This radiance, this splendor – the zohar in Hebrew – shines forth from the light contained within the interior of the Head that is not Known. But here's the rub: we can't grasp the nature of this radiant splendor, let alone the interior light itself.
Why? Because one moment it seems one way, and then it seems different. It's impossible to understand. The text concludes that what is within is not even seen, while even that which can be perceived – the radiant splendor – is also a matter of uncertainty and is not known.
This, my friends, is why it is called the Unknown Head.
It’s a profound and challenging concept, isn’t it? It reminds us that the deepest mysteries are often beyond our grasp. Perhaps the point isn't to fully understand, but to embrace the uncertainty, to live with the paradox, and to find meaning in the radiant splendor, even when we can't fully comprehend its source.
Maybe the divine isn’t something to be solved, but something to be experienced, even in its unknowability. What do you think?