A bit more than three years ago, I painted my own rendering of the sacred word, Aum (“The Last of My Jokes on Abstraction,” May 23, 2011). Ever since, I spell the word out loud whenever I spot this painting on the wall in my livingroom (“The Sacred Word,” May 18, 2012). Actually, I chant it as long as my breath lasts: “Aaauuummmmmm.” On such occasions, the whole house joins me in humming, as it were. I have become so used to it by now that the sacred word now comes to me whenever my eyes rest on many of my paintings, and especially those that are similar to the one in question. Every time this happens, I have to stop myself by an exercise of will. I wonder why, though. Is not each of my paintings yet another rendering of the sacred word, which goes all the way to the world of shamans? A good question, this. But I still doubt that I would dare chant it whenever I spot any of my paintings. After all, they are crowding too many walls in my house. If I am not careful, I will be chanting endlessly. Ridiculous, or what?