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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.