Illuminating Light

Into the woods I go, to sharpen my soul and make myself whole.

I must speak with clarity that I write these words as a person who has lately experienced light. I am not speaking in particular about “the light.” It is a kind of light-in-the-being, which in all honesty, is a difficult thing to be precise when pinpointing its genesis. This is especially pointed out with precision in the pace of today, where so many erroneous, silly delusive actions and phenomena litter the landscape of a simple life.  But it is you the reader that should consider it as something highly spiritual passing through.  It is I, the author, whom considers it to be God.   

This light though, however it comes to be explained, is now a real element of who I am, like the breath of life in itself. I have experienced it once before, and it has lasted long enough to convince me of an altogether unreasonable amount of joy.  And it is once I felt the light for all it is was worth, that it has since become second nature to me. But if the light vanishes, a man will spend the rest of his time on this earth seeking the light.  

As the man looks all around, he starts to see “the light” in all things.  It will begin to shine everywhere he looks, in conversations with strangers, in the glow of an afternoon rainstorm—it seems to illuminate most everything that gives rhythm to his creative storytelling soul.  So now allow me to add a little light as to why I will forever write.

The semantics of poetry and storytelling run the same course as the language of dreams.  In the light of both contemporary and ancient dreams over the years, and as well as the sacred texts and works of such mystics as Rumi, Homer, and Merton and the work of poets such as Dickinson, Whitman, Pessoa, and so on. There appears to be within the soul, a poetic and artistic function that surfaces when a person spontaneously or purposely ventures towards the instinctual core of the soul. 

The Wilderness Within

This place in the soul is where dreams, stories, poetry, and art all meet.  It establishes itself as the enigmatic environment in the instinctual and wild nature within, or as I like to call it, the wilderness within us all.  In contemporaneous dreams and poetry, in the old folktales and scribes of the mystics, the entire atmosphere of the soul is understood as having a life of its own, or the world to itself.  It is most often symbolized in poetry, painting, music, and dreams—as one of the vast elements such as the burgeoning depths of an alpine lake so blue, the windowpanes of a sunlit sky, the windblown dust of earth, or a flickering flame, forever kept trimmed and burning with His oil.  

Into the woods I go, to sharpen my soul and find myself whole.

From the core—mystical matters and notions rise up through the person who experiences “being-touched-by-the-light.”  From there the person may engage the audience by talking about the edge.  But you must know that this edge has forever been a metaphor for the edge of my soul.  The fear of straddling this edge, the jumping from cliffs, it was all within the well of me.  Myself, diving headfirst into the once shallow waters of me.  It was about finding out how deep I was willing to go.  And the following is how I have come to find myself whole.    

It is then, when the creative mind becomes exhausted from the hauling of its own fleeting ideas and matters born of ego, he will carry this ideological and egotistical weight to said edge of himself and throw every last ounce of it from the cliffs of his conditional being.  The rightful sensibility in this is that his creative capabilities will be returned glowing infused with God, or washed with the soul’s remarkable psychic sense of life.  Either way, this carries a seismic effect within, a sort of profound and sudden awakening, and a channeling of the senses that revolutionizes the mood with a heart of heroism.  

When one is renewed, his overall mood changes.  When one’s mood is changed, one’s heart is changed. This is why the language of dreams, images, and the poetry that arise from the soul are so important.  In combination, they have the power to change one thing into another in a way that is so testing and torturous to accomplish by our will alone. And in the sense of sensibility within all of this, the core Self, the instinctual and wild Self, the authentic Self, finds itself whole, as both healer and life-bringer. Now, if you would all be so kind as to allow me to? Allow me to leave you with the direction I seem to be heading.

Whenever a story or fairytale is told, it becomes night.  No matter the dwelling, no matter the time, no matter the season, the telling of tales causes a star laden sky and a sun-reflected moon to rise from underneath the eaves of reality and hover over the imagination of the captive audience.  Sometimes by the end of the tale, the dwelling is filled with daybreak, other times shards of stars are left behind, and sometimes even a storm-ridden sky will turn to sunshine.  

But whatever it is that is left behind, it is the abundance that the creative has to work with, and he shall forever try and use this abundance to show all souls the way towards His light.  But for now I must get some rest. Sleep tight. 

“For God’s gifts and His call can never be withdrawn.”

Romans 11:29

-BeLove

Illuminating Love

You are the soul of the soul of the universe, and your name is Love.

-Rumi

One must bear in mind the odd angles that the rays of love have to take in order to reach a heart like mine. It is in the nature of love that we are here to love without condition. But the reality is that conditional love runs rampant, rearing its ugly head on those relationships we hold so dear. The effects of conditional love have become so distorted that the flesh takes flamboyant turns in the direction of that which lay behind us. It has become plain as day to me that most all of us compare today to tomorrow with that which happened yesterday.

In the deformity of loving with conditions, unconditional love is suppressed and the soul is left powerless. Therefore conditional love will not let us alone from suffering. But if you see the purity of love for what it is worth, you begin to understand that we owe our entire existence to unconditional love, because unconditional love is indeed the settled debt of the soul.  Once that debt is settled, suffering sees itself away from the heart.

My whole being has long applauded the idea of unconditional love. Though I haven’t always been one to practice unconditional love because of the conditions that I myself have bound to love. I have often obligated it to my own attachment with the expectations of what I believed love should be. It is in my opinion that this has always been wrong.

Rays Of Love

It is unfortunate that it took me this long to finally figure it all out.  But it is better to have learned late than to have not learned at all. The only way I came to understand this was by making it a priority to love myself without conditions.  It was tough to achieve, especially in the struggles of finally putting the ego to rest.  But it did happen through extended contemplation and in the due process of rewiring my heart with my soul. All of this has helped me to see what unconditional love truly is with a newfound intensity. You see unconditional love is as light as it is heavy, which holds steady with an all around balance.

It Is What It Is

Pure love—unconditional love—is the poetry of life.  A poet will come to understand that there is nothing of value without love and of course death—more on death down the road. For this post I wish to keep these words somewhat aligned with that of jubilation and joy.  See without love, there are no lessons.  Without love there is no darkness for the diamond in the rough to shine.

Today’s culture is quick to throw love off the cliffs of belief into the icy waters of doubt far below.  For not only are they scared, but they lack the patience to see love for what it’s truly worth.  Which I have come to find is both timeless and priceless.  There is no fear in love. Pure love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made pure in love. 

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

1 Corinthians 13:7

This world has become for the most part soul-less. Though there is an awakening of sorts happening amongst us, this too shall be discussed later on down the line.  The world nowadays with its “tinder” love and don’t care mentality emboldens a quicker, thrashing about to find a swift spark to bargain with someone that burns forever in the now.  But the miracle of love we seek takes time: time to find it, time to nurture it, and then time to bring it to life.  After all, lust is just a maze, in which love can’t find its way.

The modern ways in which we seek love have become conditioned to that of perpetual motion.  When in fact the purity of love is perpetuity in itself, carried by the notion of chivalry. There is no surprise in the fact that all of us wanting to love become confused and anxious, while dancing with the madness of conditional love, unable to stop the frantic jig, while spinning past the things we, in the deepest part of our souls cherish the most.  But I quit spinning a couple of years ago. Please bear in mind this does not mean that I am not spun. There’s that double negative again;)  

Though there is a way, a better way, which takes into account that of human error.  Our fears, our quirky behavior, our atrocities that shadow our eccentricities, they are very much held accountable.  And it just so happens, in the cycle of individuation, we are guaranteed to stumble upon something that points in the direction of said way… 

Roots Of Love

This path I have long walked has forever been riddled with the roots of love. It is just ahead through the canopy of this forest, a subtle sign from heaven above seeps through showing the way. A long lance of sunlight lights my longing for this world to see the truth of unconditional love. But first I must fully feel the truth of it myself for myself. I slow my steps, careful not to trip over my own two feet until I come to a stand still.  Though it is in no way that I am guaranteed not to fall—yet these words they are certain to spill.

A Sense Of Bliss

This stillness, the solemnity that broods in these woods, it sparks a sense of loneliness as it tells itself upon my spirit. But it is in spirit that I have found happiness in this solitude, and this is where I found bliss on the way through to You. The loneliness that has often simmered in the silence of my mind has given me something I thought I would never find, that being You. This is You moving through me, is it not?

My soul shivers more often that not with Your intent nowadays. While my hopes and dreams, they bend toward Your light. This light looks to promise growth in the warmth of Your love. It satisfies my desire to feel the love I need, the love of You. It is true, this light, Your warm-heartedness alone seems to speak directly to my spirit with hints of something that will always fill my heart with a sensibility that is forever unconditional. 

You are the soul of the soul of the universe, and your name is Love.

-Rumi

I feel a love within myself growing in the depths of redemption with You.  It is the unwavering love that we have all cherished from those who have perished upon Your Heaven above. It’s unconditional in every sense of Your word. It is pure, it is clean, it is angelic, and in Your nature it will forever be illuminating. And yes, I do have so much more to say, but let us save it for a rainy day. You see, it is true, rain—has always assumed growth.   

See you all soon.

—BeLove 

     

Familiar Reality

I haven’t come this far to only go this far.

If we don’t change, we don’t grow. If we don’t grow, are we really living?

-Unknown

It is a good thing, perhaps, to write for the pleasure of the public eye, but it is a far greater and nobler thing to author for their direction an authentic and substantial benefit.  The latter is the exclusive object of this commentary.  If it proves the means of restoring to healthy shape one solitary victim of humanity, of igniting once more the fire of faith and joy in his or her stonewashed eyes, of bringing back to their sedated heart, the swift and plentiful impulses of brighter days, then and only then shall I be sufficiently rewarded for my work.  Maybe my soul will permeate much in the same sacred delight that a good, god-fearing man, feels after his enactment of a good and unselfish deed.

I haven’t come this far to only go this far.  This thought races through my head more often than not as of late. I stare through a glare at half of my reflection as it merges with the beauty of a surprise “summertime” sunset.  I’d be a bit particular to speak with optimism that this is much the same view as Heaven affords its clientele.  But what do I know, these are just thoughts, fleeting and pure.  And the words that follow share the same boat.

Fleeting Purpose

What I’m trying to do here, among other things, is to layer the imagination with spirituality, poetry, humor, reality, and above all else purpose.  I have never declared this writing as being dressed in the uniformity of style that society is so tickled with.  I suppose when a reader finishes one of my posts—assumed the reader finishes the post—that maybe they fall into a state of gentle bliss and escape the faculty of their own fleeting thoughts for a moment or two.  Maybe the reader has encountered some unpredictable way of “awakening” in a sense.  It is possible that possibility alone has expanded itself along the corridor of their universe.  Or maybe it is that I like to write because it helps me to crawl out of the ditches of my own life, that I myself have dug.  But the only way I know to crawl is through the creativity of change.  

The other morning I woke up and finally understood what I always thought was to taxing to understand.  Progress.  It is the most industrious word in the English language.  There is nothing that can undermine the very definition of the word progress.  The moment one decides to take a seat and deny progress the chance at manifesting itself, one should just go ahead and accept mortality’s invitation, so to shorten your pursuit of paradise. 

Creative Change

The first step towards embracing change is to develop a progressive and creative routine that breathes betterment into your overall well-being.  These routines could range from a daily workout to creatively writing, or hell, cooking for a living.  It’s when we improve ourselves through habitual hobby that we leave little to no room for our thoughts to drift away towards all things that we assume to suffer in our life.  It’s the fact that when we find something we are passionate about, our inner mechanism of success switches on and we portray a future full of purpose, envisioned by creating hope.

The Light Of Growth

Creativity is continued growth per change.  It is the crafting of something unique that had no presence in the world before. It brings forth something out of nothing.  Nothing becomes something, which in the end, befits change.  There is also a problem with change and that is whether or not something wholly new is feasible.  In a world where old-fashioned concepts have become standard and ethical direction is ever changing, is it possible to create genuineness from the goodness of a soul? I guess it all depends on the individual.

True change should be measured as something that engages catharsis and the purification of our senses.  It also over time help us to extract our own soul, bringing it home to the heart where it has always belonged.  Creativity is a process built on change, and over time it pulls us away from our peripheral and judgmental thoughts while pushing us into the realm of perpetual spirit.  It is the liberation of the spirit from all of the external elements that suppress spiritual and even personal development. But creativity is the consistent victory over said elements.  To say the prior words with more simplicity, to immerse one’s self in creative acts of tenderness is to expel all that is toxic from ones life.

Change In Direction

As of now though, work beckons below, this view alone has my mind firing on every last cylinder.  These thoughts forever fleeting, but they are coming together in a fleet that will cleverly chart the course through the chaos of me, let alone us, them, and you, the reader. It is to be considered of course, that you the reader, made it this far?

Change means that what was before wasn’t perfect. People want things to be better. It is human nature.

The beast has been astray for a quick minute.  He’s been downstairs planning his attack against another kind of beast altogether—a beast of industrious culinary proportions. His head or hands, whichever you prefer and if they even exist? They have never been more full.   He operates in an entirely different way when given a certain task. Let us be honest here—his borderline sanity meshes well with orchestrating chaos. It’s his kind of place.  

I must go sharpen my knives, recalibrate the scales of success, all the while rallying in a new wave of troops.  It’ll be a a band of broken pieces, but when those pieces are placed together properly, the wholesome beauty of growth is a gorgeous thing, and I’m just crazy enough to water them all with my own sort of insane sensibility.  So let us go, and let us watch how the numbers grow.  Let us get to where we were going a long time ago. I’d suppose this is when the story gets good. But who I am to know what the story holds. I’m just the one telling it. But I do, I feel the target set upon my soul, with the aim being set in the direction of a dream. 

The Takeout

There are short-lived sorrowful seasons of life that to often tend to weigh us down with anxiety.  Yet the time has now come to turn the corner towards the spring of redemption.  Hope has always hung on to make a show of revival—not needing any reason to back it—only because it is in the nature of hope to revive itself when the spring in its step has finally sprung.  So go on, get out there, water yourself, create growth, create community, create hope, and then put our own damn name on it, and stamp it with love.

Home Sweet Home

I look to the Neapolitan sky, speaking silent.  I am thankful for this solid ground.  This path seems to be synching towards something splendid. You gave me this view, this crew, all for a reason didn’t You?  There are still many questions to be answered, but it is in the fullness of time that the answers we seek usually arrive bound with astonishment, as we are left scratching about our heads with a mystified air surrounding us. 

-BeLove

Tickle The Truth

Look within. Within is the foundation of good, and it will ever bubble up, if thou wilt ever dig.

—Marcus Aurelius

The spiritually hungry are always ready to learn more, for their hearts are eager to discover new truths.

Proverbs

As a man with a humbled heart, I strive for truth and goodness.  If they ever find themselves in my possession, they may bring to me an unknown kind of heavenly happiness, but happiness itself is not of my creative and conscious purpose.  As much as I am engaged in the pursuit of happiness, it is the truth that I seek and not happiness. Though it is possible that when the truth comes to be found, it may just be holding hands with happiness. And it is true that having a creative attitude towards life, as a whole is not man’s right, it is his duty. 

A Creative Direction

Within this fallen world, I still see beauty everywhere I look and my creative nature will forever follow said beauty.  And being somewhat of a poet, hope will always find enthusiasm hiding behind beauty in the depths of a dream.  This enthusiasm becomes second nature to the poet because the truth of what he is, is within him.  

A voice sounds off in his soul, which is fed with a creative energy equal to the power of all societies.  You don’t make yourself interesting through madness, eccentricity or anything of said sort. In the truth of what is, the poet finds his enthusiasm in the ability to drown out the noisy distractions that this world seems to offer us on a daily basis.  He becomes fit to hear the essence of all things.  

It’s about to get deep.

Now let us focus on the truth of creativity. Creativity is the moral imperative that applies to the ethical department of life.  The effort put forth towards artistic and cognitive activity carries with it a moral value that is unswerving when one starts to understand that the realization of truth and goodness is an act of creative nobility.  

Digging For The Truth

Whatever I write from this point on, is for mere guidance of me and maybe you, and of course the boy.  There is nothing nonetheless in the truth of these words than that alone.  It is my life’s constant gravitational pull that has at times—pulled me towards the truth of me, myself, and I.  These words, they may be the hidden paths, which lead to the truth of heaven above, but heaven already exists in my heart, and that is the truth in itself. 

I would rather not be the man who looks upon his reflection and for a moment forgets the manner of man he was.  Yet at the same time, I strive not to try and remember myself lest I come to find the person I am not.  The first step toward finding me, who is of the utmost truth, is to discover the truth of God.  So if I have indeed been in error, the paramount step towards the truth is the unearthing of said error. 

Digging Deeper

Shall I flee far away, and hide within this wilderness of me? Shall I hurry for His shelter far away and free from tempest and these storms of me?  I seek no treasure or experience—I seek only the truth.  So whatever storms come, they come, and we brave them by dancing our way through them until the sun shines upon our souls. Is this not correct?

It is in my opinion that first you must truly know and love your self. Then you will become aware of the true “being” of God beneath your own fleeting thoughts. You will learn to wait with stillness underneath the chaos of confusion as you begin to recognize the unconditional love for yourself that hides behind reclusive pain.  It is after one has become aware of the darkness in the depths of faith—freedom, salvation, and even enlightenment—are but seeds of the truth.

Nature never gives up. And that is the truth.

Seeds Of Truth

In the reality of spiritually awakening, something emerges from within you that grows so much deeper than whom you thought you were.  And as much as the old version of myself is still around, something more powerful than anything I have ever felt grows within my soul. Someone has determined it necessary to anoint this head of mine with a sacred sort of oil, leading me down a path I never thought existed.  

A seed must crack and break free from its shell of comfort, so to seek the light of salvation through devastation. This “breaking free” will look like complete destruction of a person to those who look at this world externally. Followed by the discussed judgment of “that boy is a few sandwiches short of a picnic” mentality.  A losing of the mind, though in a lot of ways, can be of the highest kind because of what it is about ourselves we creatively come to find.

He has His own Way of bringing us out of our shells, of bringing us into the world—the world from which I long held the illusion that I was withdrawing. Most of my life I’ve felt some “far off” kind of sensation that something was leading me somewhere of significance.  But in the harshness of my disbelief of His will, the path has seemed to twist and turn in all sorts of direction.  And the only way to get through to me, I feel, was that He had to move through me from dead center, from the Cross within my heart. 

 The Truth Beckons

So in my own direction with my ego I went. Then came the flux of imagination, sensation, and insight, followed by an up close kind of ache for the sacred knowing of an astral plane beyond good and evil.  And that in it self is the dark truth of something heavier than I’ve ever known, I guess that’s why I will forever draw these words with the manner of me—to find the lightness of my own being. And maybe they could help me to become more aware of my own ego? 


At last, the light of the truth it beckons.  It glows in the awareness of this ego of mine. It has long lurked in the shadows of this creative wilderness.  Oh this writing, the spilling of my own fleeting thoughts, why must they exude my ego, why must they be the truth of who I am in God’s very own heart? And so it is I’ve come to understand my ego, and from understanding comes God’s growth. And why it is, that the beacon of light from within, will always be the beckon of hidden truth I seek.

I have wandered deeper into my own soul than even I’ve ever fathomed over these past few months—deeper than most wish to go. Lucky for me these words have been instrumental in keeping my feet on the path in a wilderness so deep. Maybe this depth has setup permanent camp in this wilderness of my mind. So allow me to tickle the truth with the gravity of this pen.

Tickle The Truth

The great fleeting feelings and thoughts are gone but not forgotten. And if we will not awaken the awareness of humanity’s collective ego—the collective of goodness, spirit and soul of society will never be convinced to participate in the geometric pattern of angels, and society will sink deeper into the abyss of suffering. So now the time has come to lift the veil of Maya.  Illusion is real and reality has become a dream, no longer illusory.

The truth of heaven and of fallen angels will sow the seeds of the future for humanity as a whole. Both like to speak to us in dreams with certain criteria we never knew to exist.  But we spend most of our lives dissecting our dreams, instead of living those dreams. These dreams, they come to us as we sleep, to help us see the concealed divinity in other human beings. All the while sharing with us a map that creatively charts the course of imagination across the abyss that so often divides us all from the truth of His Spirit.  And upon the latitude and longitude of the heart, we find flesh and soul at crossroads.

The Story Grows

In the end all happiness really is—is the quality of your inner context. Each and every life that blesses this planet is in fact a story waiting to be told.  Each life has a table of contents, that divvies up the chapters by those delicate and life altering situations that each and every one of us face every single day.  Happiness is growth. Growth from all of the pain and suffering that once prevented us from believing in ourselves.

So let us join hands and build one another before we judge one another.  Is this not spoken in the law of Christ, to nurture instead of destroy?  So instead of fighting amongst each other, let us nurture the foundation of truth with unconditional love and help us allow a bright future for our children. Let us build a new path that leads to somewhere the world has never been. 

“Bear another ones burdens and fulfill the law of Christ”

Galatians 6:2

The Takeout

Man and his moral dignity with its freedom are determined not by the purpose to which he aids his life, but by the source from which his morality and the ensuing activities that spring from said source.  It should be worthy of a note, that in a sense, “the means” from which a man chooses, are far more diligent than “the ends” in which he pursues. 

To consider things and situations only in the light of the effect they burden upon me is to stumble upon the doorstep of hell, so as I stand up, rising out of my own hell, it’s time to reach for the truth of heaven.

-BeLove

Ode To Tahoe

The water is clearer than the air, and the air is the air that angels breathe.

-Mark Twain

“…at last the lake burst upon us—a noble sheet of blue water lifted six thousand three hundred feet above the level of the sea, and walled in by a rim of snow-clad mountain peaks that towered aloft full three thousand feet higher still… I thought it must surely be the fairest picture the whole earth affords.”

-A distant relative of mine—Mark Twain

Should I stand perchance
and gaze upon your shore
while your waves they dance
—abrupt and still
where my thoughts 
shall spill forevermore.
 
I look so deep 
within your emerald depth
for as much
as what I seek
is likened to your clarity. 
 
And so it is
beneath a mirror 
—tinted zephyr
here I stood 
dreaming awake 
fifteen years to the day.
 
For my gladness 
you have given
and my wishes true
as your hue blue.
Though in your reflection of me
I will always see a storm-savaged sea
amongst these waves of tranquility.
 
Floated by your youth
upon a buoyant breeze
with your water and your sand
you took me by the hand.
And so I swam
through the depths of you 
so deep and blue
so tried and true.

BeLove © 2018

Adjusting The Sails

You may not end up where you thought you were going, but you will always end up where He meant for you to be.

“The pessimist complains about the wind; the optimist expects it to change; the realist adjusts the sails.

-William A. Ward

Life will always find a tailwind when creating something out of thin air.  In the mere reflection of life we require a creative and graceful wind—a special sort of fidelity with our inner nature that moves us in the direction of God.  Life requires stability too. It demands a maturity of the creative gusto of our soul, which is not easily met in the constant adjustments of direction about the long and perilous journey through the sea of life.  This life seems to result from the very least—in the experience of the artistic experiments that our creative soul has been quietly dreaming up to live amongst Him in the Kingdom of better days.  

God’s Will

To reflect upon life with transparency, we must look towards God. We must keep the mind quiet. All the while allowing calmness and purity to at once become the well-kept condition of our being and the consequence of His vision for us as individuals.  It is up to us to adjust the sails, and to allow His wind to carry us wherever He intends.  This to me is the truth of life—the everlasting hope that breathes with each gust of life’s wind.  It is the reason why I believe He created us; to create Him in our own creative way.

The Tree Of Life

All a man should seek, other than God and his true self, is an opportunity to work his heart out through heightened work—to express the sensibility of his soul and to declare the lovely feelings of his time.  He should seek to discover deeper purpose in his own creative meaning, as well as, the truths of the nature that both surround and entangle him.

He must use with confidence all of the delightful opportunities with his time on this earth—that God has so graciously given to him. It is most important to reflect upon ourselves in the creative sense, and to listen with the wind for the clandestine sounds of love and truth that He created deep within us all, long ago.

On Writing 

This writing began, in all reality as just a covert operation on my lifelong doubt in God and myself—the longing, the swelling heart, the raging eagerness of feeling deserted, and the painful keenness of an infinite and unidentified need for some purpose higher than this fallen world can offer.

Before I started to write again, I felt my imagination was headed for the shallow waters of mediocrity. And I wasn’t happy with my creativity drowning in the stagnant puddles of life.  Why did my imagination have to give up its full and free connection to the universe, is it not a living garment of God?

Finesse Found

I guess at the midway point of my life it comes to this. That as a creative individual I have often sought ways to prove what’s in my heart—the love, the poetic hunger for purpose, the swelling excitement over her unparalleled beauty—for which there are no acceptable terms of knowledge, just wisdom. Is it not the creative mind that is better off with hints, as opposed to extensive knowledge?  But in the end we need not apply for the right to love in this world, we just do it because it is what God has intended for us all along. 

When one writes his way through a spiritual awakening, it is bound to get a little too deep in spiritual schisms. The enigmatic engine will burn a little hot and sporadic from time to time.  As one exorcises both the evil and the good from within him he will find numerous darkened paths up the mountain of his mind, and it is often as one approaches the off-beaten paths of his thoughts he will find himself betwixt and between, the sanctuary of beauty and the asylum of madness.

But just before he chooses between the paths, by God, the wind He blows it something fierce, and his ship gets turned around, away from the storms of himself.  A smooth seam of glasslike water shows itself upon this sea of life, and he must adjust the sails for what he hopes is the sanctuary of His will.  So as we sail towards the shore of big news, please allow me a moment to reflect on this creative written venture.  

The shores of bliss.

On Overthinking

Let us not forget, that I had been a complete idiot until I started this blog and a partial idiot after that.  So that being said, I will always be something of an idiot.  I have overthought and rambled my way through my mind at my own pace and in all kinds of directions in search of something. It does happen to turn out that something was God. That’s where this path always led if you all haven’t yet noticed?  It has become more than obvious that this sharing of my thoughts was just an extended errand for the sake of my soul.

It is true when I said that I believe this blog has been my own way of working myself through an existential crisis.  My peculiar tendencies to get to the bottom of my purpose in life and to myself are of mine and God’s genuine demeanor, and I think these words alone can verify that.  If they can actually guarantee a damn thing, I suppose is up to me.

My thoughts even now, they sit here simmering. Still, at some point they must come to a full boil. As my very fingers rehearse these written words, how would my mind work the notes of my imagination’s trumpet, when it was ready to blow alas?  Would the peals of written brass be heard beyond this earth?  Would Christ, the faculty savior of my imagination’s truth be roused, and may we together look with awakened eyes upon the true beauty of Heaven on earth?  

I have always thought of thoughts as real constituents of being.  So now with all of my being I must drop anchor upon the shores of home. As I look back at this sea of words, this venture of my bared soul that has shown the chaos, the beauty and all else in between the storms of my mind—I regret none of it. But comes a time for a man to walk in the direction towards his known purpose for a quick minute. 

Recognize what is in your sight, and that which is hidden from you will become plain to you, for there is nothing hidden which will not become manifest.

-Christ  

Living The Dream

Last week I was offered and have accepted what I have long considered a dream job.  And until I find my full stride along the new path in my career, my time is going to be precious.  I am going to play Executive Chef for this quaint but busy little bistro-style bar and grill along the shores of the closest place I know to be bliss, that being Lake Tahoe.  I have longed to get back to “painting” plates and creating dishes that grow from the garden of my soul. It’s going to be more than hectic enough all summer to occupy most of my mind. Which let us all be honest here, it is what this mind of mine needs. 

My new home away from home.

 The outdoor barbecues, the granules of sand tormenting sunburnt children with bliss, the beach with its perfect seventy five degree sunny days, the drive and motivation to be proud of collective success, is all that I need at this point in my life.  The sunsets and sunrises, my buddy picking me up from work on the boat, it’s all quite the blessing. The Man Upstairs has a beautiful plan and I’ll even be able to afford Him the favor back by frequenting an early service of Church on Sunday mornings.

This summer will be beautifully orchestrated chaos, but I am better at harnessing the chaos of a kitchen, and all its moving parts, than I am at constructing the chaos of my own mind.  Plus, the creativity and responsibility that comes with this job, gives me a sense of purpose I haven’t felt since my son was born. Whom by the way turns five today. Happy birthday big rig. For Heaven’s sake they grow up so fast. Here’s to your day filled with creativity and cupcakes. He is a Pisces kid through and through.

Happy Birthday Kiddo. The reason why I strive to be who I am to be.

The Takeout 

The dream hasn’t changed, but He has changed the course of the wind, and I must adjust the sails towards the direction of a different dream.  I feel that there is still a purpose to my writing, there always will be when speaking of Him and His love.  

In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.

Proverbs 16:9

But it is but for a bit, that this all has to be put on the back-burner of reality.  It seems to be His will for now, and I am no longer one to fight against that.  We need not forget though, that where there are multiple outlets of creativity, the mind’s ability to create becomes lest congested. So in order to right this ship long lost in a sea of words, I must set the sails in the direction of the good fight, for myself and of course, love and His will.

In Closing

In order to build a recipe out of words it is imperative to string incongruities and absurdities together in a wandering and sometimes purposeless way, and seem innocently unaware that they are absurd.  This has become the basis of American art.  And if my position is correct, another feature is the slurring and stumbling of the point.  A third feature is the placement of a well-traveled remark with the transparency of not knowing it, as if one were thinking out loud.  The fourth and final is indeed the pause…

—BeLove

That way you give the audience the time to divine that a surprise is intended;) 

The wicked flee though no one pursues (Prov. 28:1). That being said, I’ll be back sooner than I am able.

For Goodness’ Sake

I sink with the weight of a thousand unanswered prayers—the ice-cold pain of rejuvenation sets its hook in my soul.

I now know the questions of my dreams are ones that only God can answer.

Goodness is achieved not in a vacuum, but in the spreading of hope, always attended by love. 

Some sort of mirrored reality stares back at my reflection—hollow with eyes blue as the void.  I see the edge. My mind walks along some celestial cliff. Paralysis attacks my legs.  My stomach swims through an ocean of butterflies. I feel my heart pound with the rhythm of the crystal blue, white crested waves of persuasion churning below me, as they crash with winter’s effervescence.  

My imagination falls upon a field of metaphors and instead of picking these written wildflowers for you, I leave them scattered about for you to decide? Which are worth picking and which are worth leaving behind to bloom?

This life, this story, this blank piece of paper, these words, what significance should they all carry? What is it all for?  It has to be for something not wrong, but right—right? I am able to do what’s right, or should I stand wrong, maybe corrected?  What is a man to do in the fashion of goodness’ sake? 

As I fall from the cliffs of some astral dream, like hundreds of times before, the cement painted sky above comes to collide with the baptismal blue waters of the place I call home.  I sink with the weight of a thousand unanswered prayers—the ice-cold pain of rejuvenation sets its hook in my soul.  I wake up in a cold sweat.  I now know the questions of my dreams are ones that only God can answer.    

Creative Outpost

All through life, we are established and broken.  Then we are broken and rebuilt. Such is the American dream, in its current blood red state of self-destruction. Its obsession with the self-destructive particulars of the wounded man has grown to be comical. These words were first written in some creative outpost, so it’s time we get down to business.  If love were ever to become a revolution, I can’t think of better time to fan the flame. 

Somebody asked me the other day, if I thought I was some kind of warrior?  My response was, “Absolutely not. The moment I decorate myself as a warrior, is the moment the ego bears judgment on my being. One does not self proclaim themselves to be a warrior.  This is full of idolatry and pride.  The soul speaks chivalrous or it doesn’t.  It is as simple as is it sounds. I just want to do right by the boy and by God. Although love is his namesake, it is for goodness’ sake that I do this for Him.” She looked a bit lost in my answer but you could see the light shine in her eyes as it came to make sense.   

The Poet Barks

But at some point the poet will contradict himself, and as of now, I cannot think of a better time.   There is no time like the present to revolutionize my mind.  It is my very own idea of love.  It is but a jubilee, maybe a rendition of what love, or even who I used to be.  

Love is everywhere we look.

Man’s association with chivalry is pretty much dead.  The self-proclaimed warrior is associated with uselessness, because he does not respond voluntarily.  A warrior knows his purpose, it is rigorous and it takes a special state of mind that is eternally unbending.  To be a warrior is to be a seed of God’s purpose and to nurture His love wherever one goes with consistency.  I guess where I am going, isn’t this or that way, but it is His way.  Therein lies the difficulty of finding the seed of our purpose in a garden filled with God, faith, and wildflowers, and unfortunately, evil.

Rambled Structure

The goodness in the garden of good and evil wasn’t that far gone, so hope had stuck around, and because of this, goodness held a solid chance.  So with these words, please allow me this dance.  

Americans! With our outrageous ideas of love, saturated in the outpouring of domestic tragedy.  Who are we to think so highly of ourselves, after all of the wars, the wholesale revolutions, devastation and death camps? We’ve soaked the earth with the blood of both the innocent and the guilty. 

And still it spills forgiven from our hands?  In the cremation of love, evil lingers in the scent of ashen hate.  Hate but a hungry beast, fed through the vacuum of fear, racial indifference, and disbelief, and never in the sense of preserving goodness’ sake.  What do our personal troubles amount to?  Do we really suffer, compared to the others some consider of equal or lesser value? America’s democratic abundance does have its own peculiar complications. Does it not?

God’s Experiment

America is God’s experiment, such an experiment of dogmatic unity gone wild.  Many of the wounds created by the dogma of elder civilizations have long been healed with this newfound wound, which is a mystery in itself.  America didn’t like those who walked with this curious value that lacked pride.  It ostracized those who embodied the special interest of compassion.  America has lost its ability to understand the truth in the love of liberty and finding one’s self.  

The goodness of man was created in scarcity.  So what shall we anticipate from the false facilities of man with his plenitude?  This is why the world could always use a couple more writers written in as poets, to maybe point out the flaws of the hardened heart.

In the adolescence of America, love was built on the template of a myth. It’s why we fell head over heels in love with the idea of love.  Love is the thickness in our blood, rich with the platelets of self-desire. It was intricately embroidered with the fine print of bliss, but then our boys had to go across the pond and paint the hillsides of Europe with the blood of fascistic imperialistic belief.   

Women were then given an image to uphold and the wild soul of woman was slowly cut off from her genuine self.  The boys, they came back patriotic but broken men, suffered from the inevitable effects of evil, while death was seared into every sight they would see for the rest of their lives.  This was the beginning of the end in my opinion, love put on a mask of comfort and sensibility, covered by the veil of fear and pain. This was when pure love went into hibernation.  And sometimes a poet must carry the weighted stick that pokes the bear of love and lead it back into the wild where it belongs.

Love’s Revolution

In the early days, revolution promised mankind a permanent and interesting life in love with moral goodness. Revolution was the work inspired by love and compassion.  All classified aspects of the societal food chain were in a state of excitement led by the energy of delight in the poetic revolution of life.  Or as William James put it, human beings really lived when they lived at the top of their energies.  

My soul is fed by the energy of love, all souls are.  This is why we often feel so connected to those we hardly know.  It’s the energy of God’s delight, coursing through our veins. But what is there to be so sensible about love if, as I feel, I have waited thousands of years for God to send my soul fallen upon this earth?  Here I am supposed to capture a true and clear image worthy of love before I return, before my human life ended.  Being sensible with something as wild as love does absolutely nothing to mitigate the fear of “missing the boat.”  I believe anyone can see that.

Pure Love   

All of life has been spent in sin and virtue, in good and evil, in labor and struggle, in sickness and in health, in gifts, in sorrows, in achieving and regretting, in planning and hoping, and in love and fear.  

The light of love crashing upon the landscape of hatred.

Suppose a man were at once in his life to disappear into God for the space of a minute.  And suppose he had seen things, considered them, known them, made judgments about them and spoke of them, out of acting wise or not. Suppose he stumbled in and out of prayer, while seeing the smoke of doubt envelop his surroundings.  Yet he walked through clean to the upright side of obedience.  And in this obedience, he tasted the vague sweetness of God, where he found spiritual ease in prayer. 

In all these things, life is but a fabric sewn together with uncertainties.  But in the moment of a knick in time, the minute in which he felt deliverance to God, the fabric of life comes to be woven by the pure love of God. 

“No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly.”

Psalm 84:17

Strength In Numbers

It is in this ecstasy of pure love that we arrive at the true fulfillment of the first commandment, loving God with our whole heart and mind, and all of our strength.  Therefore pure love is something that all should aspire to please God, and we ought to desire to inspire all with unconditional love. Not just for a minute, nor half an hour, nor a week, but forever.  It is in these souls that conspire to love, that peace will be proven to be force in this world.

We are the strength of the world, because we have become the tabernacles of God.  We are the ones who keep the universe from being destroyed. We are the little ones, we do not always know ourselves, but the world depends on us.  And though no one seems to realize it, we are the ones for whom it was all created and we shall inherit the land.  

We are the ones who renounce the world and throw away the meager possessions.  We alone appreciate the world for what its nature has given us. We understand joy, and those who are hateful and angry—joy will destroy.  We are the clean of heart, we feel God in our hearts, and our freedom has no limits.  We wash the world with God’s light.

Follow the path and beauty will be in everything you see.

So come, let us go into that body of His light.  Let us live in the cleanliness of His song.  Let us shed the labels of the world like clothing and enter barren into His wisdom.  For this is the prayer answered when He hears the cry: “Thy will be done.” And this is all that one seeks, when he tries his damndest to do something for goodness’ sake.

In Closing  

One may never know why he held the great unknown so close to his chest.  He often grasped at its searing celestial pain under intense circumstance.  Sometimes he would even reach for it and pretend to fill it with emptiness.  Then came the day when he filled it with what he thought was emptiness and instead it was God who filled his heart with joy. And as he felt a sensation like no other shiver up his spine, he knew it was God telling him it was time. 

To be continued…

—BeLove

*Author’s Note-

This is merely an excerpt from the book, call it practice if you will.

    

The Positive Side Of Pain

This bandage is something we call love and as He wraps it around our heart comes a feeling of love, like none have ever felt.

It is quite the arduous task to persevere with the constancy of a positive mindset as pain lurks in the shadows of eternity.  There are countless external elements that fuel the eternal engine of thought with damaging matter.  For the longest time I thought negative circumstance was just assumed to be a revolving door in this life and that all negative reaction but mere instinct of the mind.  But now it seems that all suffering is good for at the end of a rainy day is to be drenched in its own doubt.  I never believed that positive thought—even in the excruciations of pain—was something one could consider permanent.

Let me be the first to admit that I was wrong.  My frame of mind has recently undergone this sort of revival.  It was when I gave Him complete clearance to conduct this train I call life in whatever direction He has planned, was when the light of positivity began to shine wherever I looked.  It was in this glimmer of shimmering humility, after a winter’s rain, when shone the sun within and as the clouded past is now behind me.  The sunshine on my soul speaks with this clarity unlike anything I’ve ever felt and the words fell as follows.

Create The Day

“A jagged shadow of mountains sifts through the western sky spreading shades of day-glow orange, mixed in with the night and it’s lacking light. They do collide well enough to satisfy the backdrop of infinity.  A river with its gilded slivers runs reflecting with amethyst hints as it breaks away from below my feet, branching off towards the darkened trusses of a burnt out bridge.”

Support Your Local Sunset.

A sensation washes over me from the gut of my soul.  I am not in the depths of prayer.  There is just something about this moment He either wants me to learn from or remember. Neither of these thoughts of mine are guaranteed to be true, but it was then that I didn’t feel any pain, but relief in the belief that the beauty waiting down His path will be unlike anything I’ve ever imagined.

Keep your face to the sun and you will never see shadows.

-Hellen Keller

Something happens to a person when the imagination gets lost in a sunset.  As one gazes with depth at the grandiosity of night and day colliding, the eye of the soul starts to open.  The humbling beauty of God somehow manages to paint us with shades of humility as we come to understand how insignificant we really are.  We begin to see the world in a new light, everything takes its proper shape, and even pain begins to find its comfort zone.

On Humility

In order to contemplate the wide horizon of life, we must climb out of our self-centered ways and rise to a safer height of hope.   One begins to understand, that the center of being isn’t within us, but it is in God, this is when everything starts to fall into the right place away from the endless ditches of pain. 

Humility in its metaphysical meaning is the heroic conquest of selfhood and an ascent to the heights of spiritual soundness.  Humility means to escape from one’s superficial self-image and from the asphyxiating atmosphere of one’s own limited self into the pure air of cosmic life.  Far from being opposed to freedom, humility is an expression of freedom.  Nothing or anyone in this world can force humility upon us—we can only arrive at it ourselves, through pain and suffering, and God.

Wounded Heart

The heart, sick with wounded love and left defenseless, bleeds from the countless arrows that pierce at it throughout life’s longevity.  Only spiritual humility does well to defend us against the agonizing pain of the heart’s growth.  Once pain truly humbles one, genuine growth begins and the heart begins to heal. Humility has always been aimed away from self-love and it is the arrow that impales the wound of pride, and from that pierced arrow blooms a softer kind of holistic healing with God applying the bandage.  This bandage is something we call love and as He wraps it around our heart comes a feeling of love, like none have ever felt.

The Light Within

It’s a feeling of love, and not in the sense of self-love but this kind of love for everything, every outcome, and every circumstance that didn’t go your way.  You must let it all go and leave it to Him sitting above the top of these stars to conspire over.  It is then, that the positive side of pain is first recognized as freedom.  It is unopposed freedom, freedom from inner conflict, freedom from an enslaved mind, but most of all its freedom from all of our pain and suffering. It is the radiant freedom of His unconditional love.

Spiritual Soundness

Love is a force, a radiation of beneficent, soul-giving energy, like the love most of us have for our children.  It is the victory over all the false passions of love that provide the soul with the purest of power.  It is through Christ that this power calls to us.  The whole of moral goodness consists in acquiring this spiritual power through pain and prayer while conquering the darkness of natural life. 

Christ endeavors us to overcome the external world and not submit to its ways.  Humility is not a submission to it; on the contrary, it is a refusal to submit, and a movement along the edge of great resistance.  And yet the empowering love of Christ and spiritual morality is exceptionally simple.  Simplicity, indeed, is the humbled secret to living a life full of love, for complexity means division and weakness.  To live a simple life, where love cascades from the sky like snowflakes fallen from heaven is easy and can be accomplished.  You just have to accept the pain for the growth that it is, and be ever ready to shine for the happiness that waits with a brand new day. Now let us pray.  

Weekly Prayer

Dear God—

I understand that most of my life, at most times I move to fast for my own good—I have often felt like Asahel in the Book of Samuel.  I often go running these days, to clear my head, and there have been days that I just wanted to run away from it all, from writing, from responsibility, from the truth of who I was meant to be, or even the truth of who I am.   In the end, I have been running from the pain, and even in the pain felt in my legs, the goodness, I can feel it growing deep within me. I do, I believe in the light of You shining within me, and it is Your show now, I give You complete reign.  I am more or less the protagonist and the antagonist all rolled into the main character who writes his story while searching for his grail. 

The Takeout

Pain grows in the absence of joy, and joy cannot be grown without pain.  It is imperative to let pain grow with God, until it is time for the wound to bloom.  And this alone, is the positive side of pain.  This darkness, this coming to Jesus moment, this is faith, and from this faith sprouts joy.  And as the sun creeps back around, the path shines clear.       

Amen

BeLove


Soul Wax

So let us head His way
towards a brand new day.
It is there
He will seal our stamps
beneath Heaven’s oiled lamp.

The soul like a wax
waiting for its seal
only to be softened 
on the path to God’s will

A soul itself
has no identity
til it finds some warmth 
deep in His destiny.

This wax it will melt
as it reaches His hand
and so it will be
whatever He sees
as the truth of our identity
shall forever set us free.

For all souls will fall soft
as they turn to His light
cradled with a faith

which howls with the coming night.

But if a soul so lost
lives in the dark 
with no intent 
of seeking His spark
the spark it will cease
while the soul dries hard
and crumble it shall
to an arid ash 
fallen through the crease of hell

Therefore it is wise
to stand beside
His blazing fire
held by a hand and His will 
as our only desire. 

It is then

when we sit soft
a place He will prepare 
one of which 
we have never been scared.

Stay warm and oh so whole
for on the day of death—so cold
Christ will come
to carry us through 
one last breath 
on our way Home.

So let us head His way 
towards a brand new day. 
It is there
He will seal our stamps
beneath Heaven’s oiled lamp.

And please say your peace
as you leave your feet.
It’s nothing but your soul’s
divine identity 
pure bliss will forever keep.

BeLove © 2019