The mind, in its nature, grasps, clings, and labels. In Sanskrit, this is referred to as nāma-rūpa — “name and form.” The moment the mind labels something, it is no longer a pure mystery, but it becomes a concept. A flower becomes “rose,” the sky becomes “blue,” and the soul’s awe collapses into familiarity.

The Yoga Sūtras refer to vṛtti — the fluctuations of thought that obscure direct perception. When the mind races to categorize, the living reality is hidden beneath the label. As the Taoists emphasize, “The name that can be named is not the eternal Name.” Naming reduces the infinite into the finite, the sacred into the ordinary.

In deism and many ancient wisdom streams, the Divine is seen not in doctrines but in the natural unfolding of existence itself. To encounter a bird’s song, the glow of the moon, or the warmth of another’s gaze without labeling is to glimpse the face of the Divine directly.

The Upaniṣads describe the Self and the world as neti, neti — “not this, not that.” Every attempt to pin Reality down falls short. What remains when labels are set aside is the living presence, shimmering and ungraspable.

Children know this. Before language collapses perception, they see with wonder: a butterfly is not an “insect,” it is a miracle of color and flight. Innocence does not seek to define; it beholds.

Pause before the mind names. See with the unveiled eyes, for the first time. Allow the world to reveal itself before words. See the ordinary as holy, and life itself returns to its original pure state – magic.