Love is calling. Earth awaits.

You can hear it in her hidden cries under the veneer of “everything is going to be fine”. You can feel the pull of her promised lands, pregnant with the long overdue promise of hope we all undertook as our own so long ago.

This burden is more often than not, too heavy to bear. The weight of truck stop castles, fast food palaces, billboard checkered highways, and soul stripping wholesale malls, all the while, the pressure of the poor & oppressed kicking from her bloated womb. Twenty twenty has tried to break us down in so many ways, we are fractured, but we’re still whole, even though our leadership leads us further away from the one call we are all meant to hear.

There is no more room for growth.

Not knowing any different, we think there’s enough room for us. But what about our children, our grandchildren, and their children? Is there room?

Yes, there is. But in a way that is not taught by anyone, but it.

We have, for too long, looked outward, ignorant of the truth that it lies within us. So, still we push on—outward and away—searching for what it is that is in charge of all creation, and what it’s been created for.

We have flung our advancements towards it ever outward. Eventually we thought it’d be wise to fling it into space, into the nothingness of outwardness without any end.

We flung it like concrete stones. We used it. We tried to force it. Only to find, nothing.

And outwardness at last imagined itself as less attractive. I guess since the beginning, hindsight has always been restrained by the big budget of twenty twenty.

Only within ourselves remained to be explored.

The human soul, the last little remnants of terra incognita.

Introspection

See, somewhere deep within our unsatisfied hunger pangs aches a hidden truth. We fear its upheaval, but there is no other way but to go through the violent and messy healing process of a rebirth long overdue because of it.

What we most ache for hides inside us, it lies at the junction of a dark core, it is abundant in the nothingness of everything. It is a branch of Heaven. Yet we have forgotten how to access it. We don’t even wish to discuss of allowing others to access it anymore, unless it allows us access to something else. Our prayers fall on empty ears because we pray of nothing else but for the betterment of it, in regards to ourselves.

The sacred heart of everything and everyone still beats, but we no longer listen to hear its rhythms, instead we turn away from it when we don’t get access to what we wanted. But if you sit in the stillness with it, in the deepest of darkness within yourself, you can still hear it. And it’s only getting louder.

It all starts by bringing forth memories of a more beautiful world. One that somewhere deep in all of us believes it is still possible, even when we try and dare not speak of dreaming about it. We have become hopelessly addicted to a certain denial of tomorrow, yet, it’s still there, always lingering, and it nags us to hope, to pray. To hope that tomorrow is a better day for the sake of it, our children, and how they understand it.

The impossible dream of everything it is closer than we have ever been able to imagine. It lives within our core. It thrives in the memories encoded in the DNA of our lives, our ancestors, and in every corner of wilderness upon this planet, including that of it within ourselves. And it has nothing to do with war, nor greed, or whatever else depends upon money.

It’s right here, always so damn close to us, yet, at times, it feels so fucking far out of reach.

But is it?

Are we capable of believing it back into existence?

Can we show enough patience to hold the door open for the impossible to become possible? The invisible turned visible?

Can we hold the door open long enough to a world where it sits at the core of every action. Where its abundance flows freely through the twists and turns of a broken hearted ego and satiates even those most thirsty for it? Where its compassion becomes the generous byproduct of true connection. Where its addiction is transformed into a fuel for regeneration. Where its misunderstood litigation is replaced with collective responsibility. Where our need for it is quashed by our understanding of its real purpose and the genuine connection that comes with it.

Dream A Little Dream

See I am, I’m guilty. I dream of a world where the soul of it is sung into existence by community, by those who value its inherent purpose and guides all of us into the belief that we belong here with it.

A world where no one ever doubts their own worth when it comes to it, where no one has to suppress their healthy confidence from the natural gifts it has given to them in order to survive, while conforming to a standard of it, set by someone else.

Where bliss and beauty is seen in the eyes of it, everything, and everyone else, regardless of their religious belief or color of skin.

Where the divine & the sacred are easily distinguished from all that is ignorant and mundane.

Where it flows from every being and freely between all forms of life.

In The End

But it does, it seems like this kind of place is a long way away.

And yet, if I sit still in this darkness for a hot minute, it’s already here.

And it always has been.

Yours Truly,

Ryan

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