Dirty Laundry

The point of writing my name to you is that I see who you are, you see who I am…and that’s what it’s about.

Here is but a post that is two years overdue, call it an extended bio if you choose.  And it is true, today marks the second anniversary of the beginning of this little creative outpost.  The point of writing my name to you is that I see who you are, you see who I am…and that’s what it’s about.

My name is Ryan Love. I am 41 years young. My nickname is Buddy out west and Bubba back home, hence the Be. Home being the hidden, paradoxical beauty of Alabama. I now live just down a mountain pass from the majestic splendor of Lake Tahoe in beautiful Carson Valley, Nevada.  I moved out West sixteen years ago today as well.  

A loving and God-fearing family raised me.  My mother, bless her soul, with her ability to harness all of our shit, mainly mine, still amazes me.   Though my siblings are significantly younger, we have managed to stay close, even with the age difference and me being so far away from home.

My beautiful family just outside of Yellowstone.

I am a single dad to a four-year-old son walking away from a collapsed marriage that I had a strong hand in tearing down. Now I am finding my purpose through God.  I am learning how to live alone with Him half the week, the other half I am trying to be the best father to him that I can be. 

I was once considered an alcoholic—I for one may not have been, but then again that’s what I perceive from within. I was always one to skirt the idea of moderation, and that is in itself a glaring sign of alcoholism. As I stand today, without staggering, I have almost learned how to master my self-control, ‘tis but the season though, for loneliness to creep up on the right thing to do.  

Nowadays I am a Chef in the casino industry, so temptation does flirt with me on a nightly basis, and it is quite the task shaking myself loose from it on those Friday nights when the adrenaline drip is more or less at a steady stream. But the beast within has found purpose and unity with God especially when he gets to push around this pen.  And it is true that once I let the wolf in, he has become my greatest teacher.  

I first realized that I had a knack for writing when I was in Journalism back in high school—many, many moons ago. I covered the sports beat for the high school paper because I was a bit of a jock and I could spell, which back in those days didn’t always go hand in hand.  But then I started to dabble with illegal substances and my dream of making it to the big leagues of life and baseball fell apart.  As much as I said no to drugs, they never listened.  So let me be a lesson, don’t do drugs.  

When not working, my hobbies include writing, reading, snowboarding, exploring God in the wilderness around me, photography, fly-fishing, and creating memories and art with my child.

The weight of the world on my shoulders.

I have questioned authority at every crossroad in my life. I have always said that I knew the rules but the rules did not know me. This sometimes breathes true even today. I have those who have egged me on, and of course myself.  One could say my friends and I were nothing but a bunch of heathens, such is adolescence I guess. But we have a bond between us that will last a lifetime and maybe more.  A bond that will never be broken.  

I tried my hand at college, but much to no avail because I was too smart for school. Oh good ole fashioned hindsight. It’s worth the mention that I do not regret a damn thing, well maybe one or two things, but that’s neither here nor there. The memories that haven’t faded are still as precious to me as the moment they were created.

Then I fell head over heels in love with a girl. Sure I’d been through the ringer with cherry-popping puppy loves, but this one touched my soul. Next came the heartbreak and the words they rained like poetic tears from the depths of my being. These words were not very well situated in the lyrical sense, still debatable whether they are nowadays. Nonetheless, my soul had finally come to the center stage of me. Then it vanished for a long time, the beast, my ego came front and center, with no intent on feeding the soul. 

Opening up my soul. 

In the midst of my efforts of dealing with heartbreak, higher learning, hallucinogenics, and a Pink Floyd obsession, I started writing in the sense of reality. I fell in love with the Beat Generation: Kerouac, Ginsberg, Cassady, and di Prima.  They were all so transcendental and unique, with all of the philosophical and Zen undertones it was hard to not fall in love with them. Then I read “On The Road” by Kerouac and my soul fell sick with the travel bug. I traveled far and wide looking for a home away from home.  

At this stage in my life I considered myself agnostic. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe, as much as I didn’t want to believe one way or another, sort of like taking the high road. And I really to this day do not know why. Sure I had a sturdy moral compass that would fall out of whack from time to time, but for some reason my ego thought intellect was more reasonable than God.  More on this down the road.

The Fountain Of Youth. Lake Tahoe. Surrounded by little hints of Heaven.


Then came my second taste of spiritual awakening, or maybe it was a crisis, maybe both are one in the same. Who knows? It was in 2008. I took some classes at the local community college, and finally got around to reading “Heart Of Darkness” and I became consumed with the elements of good and evil within man. I couldn’t stop writing.  My writing evolved at a rapid rate this time around.  Something was opening up within me. 

From here I turned to an infatuation with the Donner Party, so much so that I wrote a screenplay about it. The chaos, the demons of hunger, the capability of what man would do to survive blew my mind wide open. The events that surrounded that winter of 1847, made my mind move in directions it never had, what if we were living in Hell?

This is when I first felt a newfound purpose through my own doubt and God made sure that I felt Him as he started coursing through my veins.

As soon as my soul would bark back, the beast would only tighten his grip, choking the life out of my softness. Then I gave up my passion of writing because my head was swelling instead of moving in linear directions. The beast couldn’t handle it without the soul, and didn’t feel the need to collaborate.  And I was still questioning God and his antics. From there I put down the pen and decided to focus on my career as a Chef, being a Chef feeds the ego.

Then came 2016, my child was two and a half. God had very much proved his existence through the eyes of my child.  But I became sick at the hate that was dividing our blessed country in half. And yes I sort of blamed God.  This is when I first felt a newfound purpose through my own doubt and God made sure that I felt Him as he started coursing through my veins.

The reason why I will never give up on Love or my dreams.

I could no longer stand pat within the herds of ignorance and mediocrity. I felt that maybe my way with words could plant seeds that would bloom into hope and salvation, something that made love seem not so distraught and grow into something more beautiful than the world had ever seen.  After all what a man sees in the world, he carries in his heart.

Then came a vessel out of nowhere that showed me the true light of God’s work. This vessel gave flight to a new me, and readjusted my system of beliefs. I felt a creative spark that I had never knew existed. Sure being a Chef came with avenues upon avenues of creative effort, from managing different personalities, to creating specials, to setting the standards for the simplicity of a kitchen’s flow. But something was different with this creative spark from writing, to photography; my soul had found its home within the walls of creative gusto.

Always looking for God’s light through the lens of all things.

I have come to find it humbling that the wilderness within the eighteen inches from my head to my heart is the purpose of my journey in life. And I am humbled that you all still listen.  And I have learned that I am much happier talking to myself, rather than listening to myself.  Try it.  It works.

 

 It is in the darkness of faith at the foot of the cross that the light will always flicker.


Now here I am still fighting my inner demons, trying my damndest to keep the beast on a leash, hoping to mind my head, and surrender my heart to the power of God’s Love, and just maybe the consistency of me watering my own seed through prayer and devotion will breathe consistent with my purpose while these words with their rooted message of hope, love, and faith for all mankind shall forever spring from the bottom of my heart.  And now every day I awake by acknowledging my dependence for God above and my need for His mercy. 

Recently I was saved at my family church back home, but I still have a long and winding path ahead. It is in the darkness of faith at the foot of the cross that the light will always flicker.  And the reason why I feel this way is as follows.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Every time we look at the cross Christ seems to say, “I am here because of you, your sin, your curse, your debt, your death, I am here for you.  Nothing in the universe cuts us down to size like the cross.  We all have self-inflated views of ourselves, especially in the self-righteous state, until we have visited a place called Calvary. It is there at the foot of the cross, that we shrink to our true size.” If anything speaks the truth it starts with minding your head.

One more thing you may not have known about me. This band Widespread Panic, they are very much a part of me, I have traveled all corners of this land to see them, I have made friends of a lifetime through the most hospitable scene behind a traveling circus of music.  And even though panic is the one thing that is widespread in this world, it is an honest tune with a lingering lead that has taken me this far, and will always leave me wondering. 

This is a story of me. And who knows maybe you may come to find out a little about yourself as I find me.  

Godspeed.

-BeLove

Powder Keg

Love is a wildfire—it burns all but itself, it destroys what is false, and renews what is true.

The fire of love for all souls that are loved by God can and will explode within you like the fire of God’s love—it is the same kind of love.  It burns you up with a hunger for the mystical happiness, first for those that are close to you, then of people you barely know, and last but not least, for everyone on God’s green earth.  Love has the power, the energy, to ravage hate forever in the beat of a heart. Love is a wildfire—it burns all but itself, it destroys what is false, and renews what is true.

This fire slowly consumes you with a desire that is not directed in the immediacy of action, but rather to God.  And in the sudden serenity of this burning desire you are conveyed to prayer first, rather than to action, or rather, action seems to accompany prayer and with desire, as if of its own accord.

You will not always think much of what you are to do, or to write for all souls—it just sort of happens when the hunger for God carries you away.  This hunger is exactly the same as the hunger for your own personal union with God, but now it includes someone else, and it is for God’s sake above all, though one should not aim nor detach, for or from the task at God’s Hand.

Here is a bit of hunger, and it is a direct reference to you all as a collective group, a group that is established as a representative who is individual, who might I add, is real. In this hunger is a vacuum of pain and suffering, but there is also joy and it is borderline blissful, and somehow it is complete with the conviction that God wants to and will answer all of your prayers.

Sometimes you get the feeling that when this desire for the love of all souls carries you away, God is commencing to shower all of His love upon you like some transcendent waterfall glowing with all that you need—almost like He’s overwhelming you with some honey drip of spiritual synchronicity.

You will find you are no longer worried about your own needs, but instead absorbed in the nuisance of desire for the bliss of that soul—that soul—or that one.  It must always distinctive and material.  It can never be abstract.

But it does not always have to be this way, you can lose sight of them all in God and pray for them as well or better perhaps, but it is still a sweet spot to be swept with the flames of this hunger for all souls, and then comes that strange mystical synch, as we all attain riches of joy from Him.  It makes you want to sing—songs will bubble up from your soul with effervescent joy and smother you with happiness.  And yes sometimes there is an anxiousness as if your heart would soon burst, giving birth to the whole world.

And He said to him, “Truly, I say to you today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Luke 23 : 43

I hope you enjoy your day, it is a powder day and we must go.

Yours Truly—

BeLove


The Task At Hand

And it is now that I see
the way You built for me.

A wise king winnows the wicked;

and drives the threshing wheel over them.

Proverbs 20 : 26

I will always walk

bound by the perpetuity

of two eternities—

one supposed the future

another once called the past

along this here eternal path.

 

Yet it is now that I see

the way You built for me.

Where my feet

they aim to meet

with an upright stride

as I walk away from yesterday’s pride.

 

It is true; it is You that I see

in the dawn of this coming light

and beneath Your glorious sight

it is my soul

You fill; for it feels so whole

as I bask within

this heavenly harmony.

 

So it is in this moment

in which I choose to spend

where I’ll leave it to the nick of time

should I find a hint of heaven

while I walk this endless line.

 

And never shall I ever

look at yesterday

nor upon tomorrow too,

But in this here with its now

or in the present,

I guess it leans upon

whichever way the moment went.

 

Yet instead of guess

allow me a promise to profess.

I now know You built this path

the one that spins with progress

like a wheel—I will turn it around

while I cover whatever ground

until it is me that I am certain I have found.

 

And it is this—that is all I can ask

within the mystery You gave my life

where so soon shall it all come to pass

as I look upon Your coming task.

BeLove © 2018


 

 

Rambled With Love

Love shoves me around this sanctuary of life; it recoils from within like a celestial gong as it reverberates within your soul.

Love brings us around. Love guides us drifted throughout the day.  Love, love, love, it lifts us up when feeling down.  Love walks with two steps upon the ground and four steps in, it sails with the wind.  It is love. It is solace.  But I do not care if it is solace.  I am no longer attached to solace.  I love God and that is why love will always carry me around wherever I choose to go.  I do not pay much attention to anything anymore if it is lacking in the realm of His love.  I haven’t the time for anything else but love.

And when the time clock of toil rings within my ears, it is like pulling teeth trying to make myself shift with the grind of life all because of love, this secret love, hidden love, opaque love, down in the depths of me and all around me, where I won’t talk about, where I don’t care to talk about.  And anyways, I don’t have the time let alone the energy to consider such trivial matters.

I only have time for the divinity of eternity, which is just another way of saying love, love, and more love.  Maybe a bit more common sense would snap me out of this, but love has always been seen as spotless through the mirror of clarity, and this I’ll always tell you.  I am not attached to it (one would hope) but it is love and it pierces with tenderness through the core of my being, where it is stamped soft upon the bottom of my heart.

Love shoves me around this sanctuary of life; it recoils from within like a celestial gong as it reverberates within your soul.  And I must be honest—love is the only thing that gives this heart of mine the gift that continues to tick.

Love radiates the way everything looks today.  The way it was up early this morning painting the dawn with shades of a bluebird.  These mountain peaks, they speak lovely in the silence of snowfall.  And through this patch of fog, or is it a cloud, or may it be smoke if You will, but it is love, and right now it is all I choose to see for You are here with me.

The boy, my child, he bounces brisk through the crackling snow, each of his footsteps symbolic for the fire sizzling within the comforts of the beast.  His thousandth question within the hour stumps me with a selfless attention and just like that the beast is gone.  He’s off seeking the answer somewhere buried in the depth of a childhood memory.  The boy he brings a balance to the beast, he keeps him bustling wild and on his toes.  I hear him sing a song under his breath, though hidden by the ruffling leaves, I begin to see, to hear, to sense the man he will grow to be within the love of You that now blooms in me.

This is the way things have come to be after prayer, and speaking of You while having a picnic with my child. Everything seems so mysterious yet simplified in Your Presence.  Your Son, Christ died for Love, not just in the collective sense, but within all senses, and even our very own sins, and this is the way that I shall write this, too. For once I feel whole because I am full with You.  You are the Love in everything I see as my own child has now taught me.

This is how “love” works, as I so often stood stoned by the choir of my thoughts, the less I worried about creating, the more possessed I became of Love.  There is a valuable lesson to be taught in the wealth of being poor in love.

Oh love, why can’t you leave me alone?  This is but a question built rhetorical in meaning: so please for the sake of Heaven don’t leave me alone.

At all times we must cooperate with love in His house, and His love sets a fast pace even in the first mile of the marathon, and if you don’t keep up, you may stumble and fall far behind.  And yet any speed is too slow for love—and no speed is too fast for you if only you would allow His love to lift you off your feet—after that you have to sail the “whole” way.  But it is only in our dual nature that we choose to come down from cloud nine and just walk instead, such is patience one would guess.

Allow me to be poor in the Light of You.  I’ve had a tough stretch of doubt, my thoughts twisting and turning, too much, as usual—such is the mind of a creative—always producing problems out of reality’s thinnest of air. This business sometimes burns me, and so I seek some proof.

Be exalted in your strength in the Lord; we will sing and praise your might.

Psalm 21 : 13

I am all dried up of desire and can only think of one thing—I shall stay put by this fire of You that burns so deep inside me.

These demons, my faults, my desire have all run dry, and yes my soul has softened like a wax the closer I am drawn to the candle of You.  We have come a long way turning the beast into creative energy, these shadows into support, my fear into fuel, my failures into kindling, my weakness into strength.  Let us not waste these agonies of life.  Let us use this pain to recycle all hearts with the Spirit of Love.

Amen.

-BeLove


Expressions Of Identity

Our purpose is not to simply be, but to work together in the collective sense with God in the creation of our own life, our own identity, our own destiny. 

A tree gives grandeur to God by existing as a tree.  It is by being just a tree that it is observing Him.  It consents to His creative love.  This tree, it is an expression of an idea which is in God and which is not distinct from the essence of God.  It is by expressing itself as a tree that it imitates God.

The more a tree is like itself, the more it is like Him.  If it tried to be something else that it was never intended to be, it would be less like God, and therefore it would give Him less majesty.

There are no two created beings that carry exact likeness.  Individuality should not be considered imperfection.  On the contrary, the perfection of each created thing is not merely an adaptive style to its abstract type but in its own individual identity with itself.  This particular tree will give glory to God by spreading its roots far and wide, it will raise its limbs into the air and it will seek the light of life in a way that no other tree before it or after it will ever do.

Each particular being, in its individuality, in its distinct nature and being, with all its own features and reserved abilities and its own sacrosanct identity, gives grandeur to God by being precisely what He wants it to be here and now, in the circumstances designed by His Love and His endless Art.

The formulae and certain charismas of all living and cultivating things, of inanimate beings, of beasts and blossoms—in reality all nature—constitute their holiness in the vision of God.  Their inward landscape is purity in its simplest form. It is the blueprint of His wisdom and His existence in them.

The unique awkward beauty of this Shetland pony, floundering in the snow saturated dirt on this chilly last day of November under these swelling clouds is a holiness blessed by God to His own creative wisdom and the glory of His nature at work, it alone asserts the glory of God.

These yellowed pale wildflowers along the side of this path that I am walking as we speak, the ones that most hardly ever notice, they are saints in their own simple way, grasping for the grandeur of God.

This leaf in my hand has its own roughness and its own ascending fractal pattern of veins, which characterizes its own holy nature, the brook trout hiding in the depths of this river are canonized by their specific speckled beauty and their strength.

IMG_9281

This great, wounded, half-naked mountain that looms ahead of me is one of God’s most majestic works of art. There is no one thing like her.  She is her own character—nothing else in the world ever did or ever will imitate God in the same way.  That is her sanctity.

What about you?  What about me?

Unlike the animals, the trees, and all of these inanimate beings, it is not enough for us to be what our nature intends.  It is not enough for us to be individuals.  For us unfortunately, holiness means more than humanity.  If we are never anything but people, we will not be able to offer to God the worship of our imitation, which is sanctity.

It is considered a truth to say that for me sanctity consists in being myself and for you sanctity consists in being your self and that, in the last consideration, your sanctity will never be mine and mine will never be yours, except in the collectivism of charity and grace.

For me to be me means to be myself.  Therefore the problem of sanctity and salvation is in fact the problem of finding out who I am and of discovering my true self.  And I must be honest, the more I place my eyes upon His scripted garden, the more I pray, I am coming to discover who I was meant to be.  But it is true that I still must walk this path, and it is also correct that this path is a lifelong journey, but I take pleasure in the beauty that I see and the beauty of His will that awaits me.

Trees and animals do not latch on to the same problems as we do.  God makes them what they are without consulting them and they live in the perfection of satisfaction.

With us it is entirely different.  God leaves us to be whatever we like.  We can be ourselves or not, as we please.  We are at liberty to be real, or to be unreal.  We may be true, we may be false, and that choice is ours.

Throughout life we may wear many different masks, if we so desire, and never emerge from our own true identity.  But this is a choice that must not be made with impunity.  Causes carry effects, and if we lie to ourselves and to others, then we cannot expect to find the truth and its reality whenever we happen to want them.  If one chooses the way of falsity one must not come to be surprised when the truth eludes them when they come to need it.

Our purpose is not to simply be, but to work together in the collective sense with God in the creation of our own life, our own identity, our own destiny.  We are beings built from the freedom God so graciously gave us. By this I mean to say that we should not passively exist, but actively possess the awareness to participate in His creative freedom, in our own lives, and in the lives of others, by choosing the truth.

To say it even better, we are called to share with God the work of creating the truth of our existence in our true identity.  We often evade this responsibility by toying with masks, and this does please us because it appears at times to be a free and creative way of expressing life.  It is quite easy and it will seem to please everyone.  But in the long run, it may carry a cost and sorrow may saturate in the depths your soul.

We must work out our own identity in God, in which the Bible says as follows:

Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling.

Philippians 2 : 12

To find our own identity is a laborious task that requires sacrifice and anguish, risks and many tears. It demands close attention to reality at every moment, and great fidelity to God as He reveals Himself via obscurity, in the secrecy of each new situation.

There is no clear-cut path that lies ahead of me and it is not known beforehand what the result of this work may be.  The secret of my whole identity is hidden in You alone.  You will make me who I am, or rather who I will be when at last I fully begin to walk in Your presence.

But unless I desire my identity and work hard to find it with You, the work will never be done.  The way I must do it is a secret I can learn from no one else but You. There is no shortcut to this secret without faith in You.  But I now know that prayer is a precious gift that is never fleeting, and it alone has begun to enable me to see and begin to understand the work that You want done.

The seeds that this tree has planted in my liberty at every moment, by Your will, are the seeds of my identity, my reality, my happiness, and most important my sanctity.

To refuse them is to refuse everything; it is the refusal of my existence, of my own identity, of my very own self.   So I will not refuse them, instead I shall water them with Your will.

Yours truly—

Ryan Love


Guided By Grace

That natural breath, the one you just took—it keeps renewing, from moment to moment, your life, as you know it.

To live “in Christ” is to live in a mystery equal to that which is the nature of life.  It is “in Christ” where we are united as One with Him.  When we accept Christ into our lives, He dwells in us as we were our own superior self.  It is through Christ that we are united with God by identifying our inmost self with Him.

From the moment that we respond with faith and charity to His love for us, a mystical union dwells within our souls.  A “new being” is brought into existence.  One becomes a “new man” and this new man becomes one identity through the spiritual awakening of Christ within.  The gardener of Galatia spoke of this to the minds of early believers.  This mystical union of being with Christ as one “new man” is the work of the Spirit of Love, or the fruits of the Holy Spirit.

The union of two natures in one person through Christ is a union that is perfect and indestructible, a union of God’s essence in one existing entity.  The union of a soul with God through Christ may just be a fortuitous union, but nonetheless it is more than just a moral union or an agreement of hearts.

The union of the Christian with Christ is not just a resemblance of fondness and feeling, a mutual agreement between thoughts and resolves.  This union carries a quality with it that some may see as radical, mystical and very much mysterious.  It is a mystical union in which Christ Himself becomes the source and the principle of all that is divine in you.

Christ Himself, breathes in you, divinely giving you His Spirit.  The ever-transformed mission of the Spirit to the soul that is in the grace of Christ is to be seen as a metaphor for breathing.  That natural breath, the one you just took—it keeps renewing, from moment to moment, your life, as you know it.  It is the grace of Christ moving through you.

The mystery of Christ, the Spirit, it is selfless love.  We receive Him in the “inspiration” of secret love, and to Him we give to others, the outgoings of our own charity.  A life in Christ is then but a life of both receiving and giving.  We receive from God, in the Spirit of His Love, and in the same Spirit of Love, we return our love to God through others.


Allow me a moment.

Lord, if I have this divinity inside me, what do the calamities of pain and pleasure, hope and fear, joy and sorrow, matter to me?  They seem to not be my life and they do have little to do with life.

Why should I fear a thing that cannot rob me of You, and why do I desire anything that cannot give me possession of You?  All of these exterior elements will come and go, so why should they intrude upon me?

Why does my joy excite me and my sorrows bring me down? And why should either of them make or break my day?

Why is life so attractive and death so dispelling if I only live in the life that You have so graciously gifted to me?

Why should I fear to cease to be what I am not when I have already become something of what I am?


It is the easiest thing in this world to possess the life and the joy in Christ.  All one has to do is to believe and love.  Yet people waste their entire lives in the trenches of industry, making sacrifice difficult to get things that make reality impossible.

This is one of the chief contradictions that sin has thrust upon our souls.  We have to treat ourselves with such violence just to keep ourselves laboring uselessly for what is vicious and without bliss, and we have to somehow compel ourselves to take what is tranquil and full of joy as though it was our last resort, because as a whole the path of least resistance leans into the ways of our greatest hardship and it is sometimes that what we are to do, is in itself, most easy, just may be the hardest thing in the world.

Amen.

-BeLove


I have no idea who these kids are but I’ll be damned if you all aren’t amazed by her voice.

Presence Of Prayer

What matters most in prayer is not to always be right and seek external forgiveness, but for you to carry a heroic heart filled faithful with grace and with love.

The man who does not warrant his spirit to be struck down and wounded by aridity and vulnerability, but who lets God lead him with peace through the wild, and desires no other support or guidance than that of pure faith and God alone, comes to find himself surrounded by the Promised Land.  He will savor the joy in the air within the union of God.  He will, without “seeing” a thing, have a consistent, comforting and mysterious awareness of the presence of God, acting upon all the events that make up his life.

The man who comes to find himself no longer afraid to abandon all of his spiritual headway into the hands of God, to put prayer, virtue, reverence, grace, and all of the other gifts within the presence of Him from Whom all gifts must come, will walk with peace in alliance with Him.  His peace is all the more sweet—because it is uninhibited from all care.

Just as the light of faith is darkness to the mind, is the supreme mystical activity of the mind and our will sharing prayer with His infused love.  There are times when prayer seems to us like inaction. This is why it is in the nature of our faculties to become restless with anxiety.  This is why sometimes our mind refuses to keep still.  It seeks to become the sole proprietor of its own act.   Just the thought that it cannot act according to its own spontaneous impulsion brings about it a suffered humiliation that the heart has to fathom.

As soon as there is any coherent indication that God is drawing the spirit into the ways of prayer, we ought to remain at peace in this prayer that is uttered with simplification, stripped of acts, our inner echoes wiped clean of images, while waiting in an emptiness of expectancy for His vigilant will to be done within us.   This waiting should be lacking anxiety and without a deliberate hunger for any experience that comes in close contact with our knowledge or memory, because any experience we feel we can grasp or understand would be shameful to the state in which God wishes upon our souls.

When the imagination (though it will remain active) no longer offers pleasure nor fruit, but only tires and upsets you even though it rests on the most attractive of natural things, it is wise to go get lost in the woods—to rekindle the imagination with God.  And it is then that you find peace layered in positivity derived from the fruits of resting in the expectation of God’s essence.  This is better than just sitting around persecuting your mind and your will with labors of vanity that try to finagle a few intimate affections out of them.

If you reflect to deep within your negative state, you will see your mind absorbed in a vast, ambiguous thought of God and your will becomes haunted, with a shaded and half-defined desire of God. These combine to produce in you the anxiety and darkness, which make eloquent and exacted acts seem so hard and futile.  And if you allow yourself to remain in this silence you may find that this thirst, this hunger that seeks God in the darkness, will grow within you and at the same time, although you find nothing that is tangible, peace begins to establish itself in your soul.

If and when praying, your mind simply departs and your will turns petrified—and you find yourself leaning upon a gate thinking about what you are going to have for lunch in half an hour, you’d be none the wiser to keep occupied with the definitive distraction of daily chores.  There is always the possibility of laziness lurking in the shadows of prayer.  This laziness will dress itself in the façade of a prayer spoken with simplicity, followed by degenerating into a sheepish sleep.  The absence of pure activity in no way turns you into a contemplative being.

This is a where a book has been known to sometimes help.  It is the Bible that most may use, but it can be a “spiritual” book of any kind to get you started in the sort of prayer where there isn’t much thinking involved.  As an example that caught my attention I have chosen the following scripture to share with you all.

Trust in the Lord with all of your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

Proverbs 3 : 5

When you find a paragraph or a sentence that appeals to your “state” of being, refrain from reading further and turn that sentence over in your mind and absorb it, and rest in its cosmic dance with the serene and effortless consideration of the thought, and not just in the details but as a whole, as something savored in its entirety—and so pass from this to resting in the quiet suspense of God.  If you find distraction running rampant, go back to the book—with the crucifix around your neck being held in hand—and read whatever sentences you see until the silence of His presence fills your mental prayer.

“a voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.’”

Mark 1 : 3

It is also out in the wilderness of these woods, alone, under a tree with nature as our only companion, where one comes to find distraction lacking.  The sweeping serenity of these swollen white peaks blanketed by Autumn’s first snow, painted beneath the sight of November’s waning moonlight—this is the beauty of Your nature—and it is enough to keep this prayer of mine riding the quiet interior “powder day” of Your peace and my desire for hours at a time.

The absence of activity in active prayer is only apparent.  Below the surface, the will of our mind is drawn into the orbit of a mystical activity that is deeply intense, which will flow furious into our being and bring forth eternal fruits.

There is no such prayer in which one does absolutely nothing.  If you are doing nothing you are far from praying.  On the other hand, if God is at the source of your bustling interior, the works of your faculties are beyond conscious judgment, and the results may not yet be seen or even understood.

Prayer is a simplified yet deep spiritual activity in which the mind and the will rest with a unified concentration upon God, turned inward to Him, intent within Him, and absorbed by His light, and as we gaze with adoration, as to say with silence towards Him that we have left everything by the wayside—no more expectations.  It’s just You and I, and I shall go with the flow within these channels of Your joy, that You so graciously placed in a conscious stream in front of me.

What one needs most in these journeys filled with darkness is an unwavering trust in His Divine guidance, as well as the courage to risk everything for Him.  In many ways the journey will sometimes seem like a foolish gamble.  And you may well ramble upon many mistakes.

Humility and obedient submission to the guidance of Christ will neutralize the effects of your many mistakes.  Even Christ himself wasn’t always right.  But you must trust in God, who writes straight upon crooked lines and extracts great goodness away from the trenches of evil.

What matters most in prayer is not to always be right and seek external forgiveness, but for you to carry a heroic heart filled faithful with grace and with love.  If God calls one to Him, and He subtly places a promise upon one with all the graces one needs to reach Him.  One will be blindly faithful to said promise.

Yours Truly—

BeLove


Author’s Note:

I have removed the like button moving forward.  All these words need is your eyes.  The comment section is open for business.  Please feel free to reach me in the collective sense.  Thank you for taking the time to read.  Godspeed and God Bless.

 

A Humbled Promise

Humility, that low, sweet root, from which all heavenly virtues shoot.

Some poets are not poets for the same reason that some spiritual men are not saints—they never prosper at being themselves.  They never get around to being the particular poet or spiritual person they are intended to be in the eyes of God.  And it is true that they never get around to being the man or artist that was built by the circumstance of their own life.

Years are squandered in the efforts of vanity to become some other poet, some other saint.  For reasons in the realm of absurdity, they feel indulged to try and summon some inner existence that perished centuries ago, which lived through circumstances wholly unfamiliar to their own reality.

They wear out their minds while exhausting their bodies through indignant endeavors with the promise of creating a one of a kind experience for those that cement themselves in the essence of spirituality.  And sometimes they do rush the experience to meet their own self-centered and exhausted demands.

Hurry has long been known to ruin the creative mind.  To often one seeks quick success and tends to drift with such haste to get it—that they cannot take the time to truly be themselves.  And when madness falls upon their mind they argue that this drifted haste is but a species of integrity.

Within all prodigious creative mind’s you find that humility and integrity coincide in the comforts of perfect balance.  The creative who understands this, knows that they are themselves because they have been humbled by God in some way, shape, or form.

As far as the accidentals of this life are concerned, humility will stand content with whatever it is that satisfies the generalities of a society.  This does not mean that in the essence of humility we should consist in being just as everyone else.

It is upon the contrary that humility promises to be the precise person that God intended you to be. And since no two people are alike, if you carry with you the humility to be yourself, you will not be like anyone else within the totality of this universe.

This individuality will not always assert itself upon the surface of daily routine.  It will not be a matter of mere appearance, or opinion, or ways of doing things.  It is something buried deep in the creative soul.  It is something within that only few can exude, something very similar to daylight’s prelude.

To truly exist in humility, the ordinary ways and means of men are not, in any way, a matter of conflict. The humbled do not worry about what everyone else is doing—the trends of others matter not.  To conform to, or lack thereof with these stumbled occasions in life, as a matter of life or death is to fill your inner self with unnecessary noise and confusion.

It is the humbled man that ignores this indifference by doing whatever it is in this world that helps him to find God while stumbling upon his purpose at the same time, all the while leaving the rest aside.  He learns to see with clarity that what is useful to him may seem useless to someone else, and what helps others find their purpose may ruin him.

Now we come to the purpose of this post.  It is when one makes a promise to God, to live humbled beneath the will of Him, that the spirit refines itself, it finds a peace with a common sense that knows nothing of sane morality.

Before a downfall the heart is haughty, but humility comes before honor.

Proverbs 18 : 12

There is no humility in insisting on being someone you are not.  One may as well go ahead and say to God, I know better than You, who I am to be. And how would you expect to walk your own journey home if you take another man’s road?  How should one reach his or her own self-delegated level of perfection by pretending to be someone else?

In this scenario, sanctity will never be yours; you must have the humility to work out your own salvation in a wilderness where you are absolutely alone.  And so from here humility takes a heroic turn when one decides it’s time to be nothing else than the man, the creative, that God intended him to be.

And honesty will often be fabricated as an illusion to seem like pride.  This is a thoughtful temptation because you can never know whether you are being true to the truth of you, or if you are merely fortifying a defense for the falsity of your personality—the creature of your own appetite for admiration.

But humility is at its most prominent when the lesson is learned that in the anguish of keeping your balance in such humbled demeanor—you continue to be yourself without acting tough about it, and without asserting your false self against the falsity of others.

Live in harmony with one another.  Do not be proud, but be willing to  associate with people of low position.  Do not be conceited.

Romans 12 : 16

So let us pray.

Lord, too often and in too many ways I’ve put myself first—above my loyalty to You, above my recognition of sin, above my need for repentance, above my humble reliance on You for everything.  Today, Lord, I come to you with a promise that I will always be humbled by the grace of You, and I ask that You purge from me any selfish pride and help me to see all things as they really are.  You first. You always.  And I thank you for this beautiful day that awaits.

Amen.

-BeLove


Seeds Of Sanctity

Keep silent for the most part, and speak only when you must, and be brief.

-Epictetus

It is sad but true that in this day and age everything has to be a “problem.”  We live in a time of anxious demeanor because it is our manner of giving anxiety the opportunity to do what it does by creating a problem.  Anxiety is not something that is inflicted upon us with force from exterior elements.  We inflict it upon our own world and upon one another from within ourselves.

Sanctity in these modern days is prescribed with the meaning of having “no doubt,” as when the mind travels from one arena of anxiety to the next in which anxiety does not exist. And perhaps it may mean to lean upon God, to be without anxiety in the midst of anxiousness, so that the debris of doubt may be left for the next traveler to deal with.

In the sense of all that is fundamental—it boils down to the silencing of all contradicting distractions that border your being.  Spending a quality amount of time with silence helps to reconcile the contradictions within and around us.  And although they will always run rampant, these contradictions cease to be a problem, because the Man Upstairs is the only one who deserves our fullest attention in the depths of silence.

Contradictive conflicts have long existed within the soul of man.  Yet when man prefers evaluation to silence—conflict turns constant and carries no solidity to an insoluble situation.  We are in no way meant to resolve all contradictions but instead we must live with them and rise above them to heights where only internal solution sees them as the dimness of objective values in which they are, where they become trivial by comparison.

Silence, then, belongs to the substance of sanctity—in silence hope remains steady like a winter’s first snow while strength carries the weight of doubt away.

When silence used to surround me, I saw it as a problem—it was then that I could never escape my own mind to find silence.  Then came the day that silence, it ceased to be a problem, and I came to figure out that my mind must’ve influenced it all along.

Still though, I knew the problem would come back to the surface because the internal fruits of subjectivity and understanding would never be enough for my mind.   Silence is supposed to show us what is objective and concrete, and it does after awhile.

Silence is meant to be an intimate occasion with something far superior to this world, as beautiful as Being itself.  Silence is but a way that we may lean upon the sanctity of God’s silence in a deepened state of peace.

only in returning to me and resting will you be saved.  In quietness and confidence is your strength.

Isaiah 30 : 15

We are a society that puts words between our true selves and things.  In most cases even God has become just another abstract reality in a land of language that no longer serves as a means of unity with reality. But it is through His Word and the writing of words that I fall into the silence that I seek to move forward with myself.

As I’ve said once before silence clears the air that was once filled with the smokescreen of a man’s mind and his thoughts.  In silence we will always stand face to face with the bare being of things, and still we find in the nakedness of reality that is easy to fear, that neither are a matter of anxiety or indignity.

The naked reality of these words should be considered as being clothed in the friendly fabric of silence, and this silence is very much linked to all that is love.  The world that words attempt to categorize and control will always sit tight with us, and it is in silence where I have learned to know my reality by respecting it where words have sometimes corrupted it.

When one has lived alone long enough with the new reality surrounding him—adoration of God alone will bring forth a few intriguing words from this silence, and this is the maternal material of Truth.

Words fall between stillness and silence—between the silence of distraction and the silence of our own being.  And in between the silence of the world and the silence of God, words will always fall upon our soul.  When we are truly content and have known the world in its silence, words we learn are not what separate us from the world, nor from God, nor from ourselves because we know not to trust certain language to contain reality.  But it is within the silent sanctuary of the Psalm we find hope in the sound of sanctified words.

If the Lord had not been my help, my soul would soon have lived in the land of silence.

Psalm 94 : 17

It is in stillness of the Psalm where we learn that truth rises in the silence of Being from the quiet tremors of His Word.  Then as we sink into silence again, the constricted truth of words pushes us down upon the silence of God.

Or rather He rises with a calm fury from the darkness of a moonlit sea, like a long lost treasure floating upon waves of words and when those waves of words recede—His brightness will forever be a light upon the golden shores of our being.

-BeLove