Feed The Flow…

It is of hope to me that some would come to discover that the most impenetrable landscape, that the most unusual adventures are the ones seen and experienced from within.

Clearly creativity springs from something that rises, rolls, surges, and spills into us rather than from something that just stands there hoping that we might, however circuitously, find our way to it.  In this sense we never “lose” our creativity.  It is always there, filling us or else colliding with whatever obstacles are placed in its path.  If it finds no inlet to us, it backs up, gathers energy, and pushes forward until it breaks through.  The only way we can muster its insistent energy is to spin it in a positive way as to continuously mount barriers against it, this is so it can be diverted away from the channels that are poisoned by the destructiveness of negativity and negligence. 

If we are gasping for creative energy; if we have trouble holding onto the imaginative, the morality of our own creation; if we struggle to focus on our personal vision, acting on it, or following through with it, then something has gone wrong at the spring of the source, between the headwaters and the tributary. Perhaps one’s creative waters are flowing through a polluted environment, whereas the pollywogs of imagination are killed off before they can grow into maturity. But more so than not, if creativity is bereft of constant flow, sometimes you have to let it build, like a pile of driftwood gathering from a Spring runoff, holding its own, until it’s time had to come to break the damn levee…

My mind may have well gone ahead and volunteered for any one of the dozen marathons going on this time of year. It was moving constant and in all directions. These marathon states, how should I describe their phenomena? In a marathon state I infinitely lack something, my heart swells to the point of sickness, it feels like a tearing eagerness ripping at the fabric of my being. This two and a half, “going on twenty” year journey into the creative depths of myself has bled through a lot of things that spill from the core of me.

The sentient part of my soul often wishes to express itself in ways most are not accustomed to. There are some symptoms of an overdose of caffeinated emotion. Or it could be that these butterflies intermingled with a heavy heart and lightheadedness were just some subtle vibrational twitches in the direction of all things synchronistic and full of surprise. I have at times had sense of being the instrument of a higher power. I often feel that I’m either being used as an example of human error or as a mere shadow of the suitable things to come. Which in the sense of excitement and deliberate expectation, was pushing me closer to the edge.

I was not so completely unrealistic that I failed to ask myself whether by a sensible person I meant myself. It was evident I had become one of those proud sensitive kind of gentlemen who liked to give so much trouble because I have been adorned with this passion for such internal matters that seem of slight interest to any so-called sensible person.

As I found my way swimmingly to the edge of the bank, I gathered my things with what little bit of wit I had left. My smile went wide with the framework of contentment. I had fallen under the influence of all things speculative and metaphysical. It was time to approach the premises of universal eagerness, asserting that the appearance of mankind on this earth as a whole, was a good thing, a little bit more immature and held to a lower lack of accountability then generations passed, but nonetheless curable in the esoteric sense.

I was starting to become keen again, to the peculiarity of things, within the depths of which certain secular tendencies often touched on “not” telling the truth. It’s these thoughts that sent my mind into frenzy nowadays, with their accelerating rhythms and paradisiacal philosophical deliriums that provoked the explosion of layers of an unknown consciousness deep within me. It was my hope that by reducing the strength of these outlying forces, that I might not run through the fire, perpetually on the edge of chaos before throwing myself into the depths of the river, all the while panting with joy and amazement.

I was becoming altruistic in the realm of all that is romantic in a short period of time, this writing, somehow had it’s hand in the digging of the depths in the trenches where which I often dove headfirst. I often think that the sickness in my heart somehow spread into a sort of high-strung emotional poetic disorder. This is how I sometimes felt, and still do from time to time. Too often I am washed over with a sense of being, poisoned by an eagerness, and a congestion of tender impulses finessed with fever, spun with all of it’s enthusiastic dizziness. Love did after all bring out my deepest peculiarities.

It’s not to be considered a bad thing at all; I’d be one to guess that it belongs to the nature of this path that leads to my own sort of inner salvation. And so it is that owing to my eagerness, I began to connect breathing with joy again, and owing to the gloom of sickness, I looked to connect that joy with light, and owing to the absurdity of my own thoughts, I allied the light that shone upon the walls around me with the light that burned inside me.

I had materialized myself as one of those Hallelujah and Glory types. Furthermore concluding that man, this one in particular, is nothing but a continent of creative divide. One minute you are creating this, the next that. Though it belongs to those who are sensible, they are the ones who look to offer their personal experiences as a helpful lesson to the rest, hoping to energize the hearts and minds of others and do right by them—an intensive sort of public relations project. And for those who share no sensibility, or offer no empathy, let them be as they may. They will wake up sooner or later.

There are times when I see all of these thoughts of mine with copious amounts of idealism spread about. But there are other times when to me, all I see is pure external delirium, a toxic entity of animosity spreading far and wide, burning the fields of indigenous love, and sucking God’s Muse dry of Her very own blood. With everyone so sold on gold and the so-called good, it has become much easier to bat an eye at evil while we tuck it into bed for the night. But it is a certain gold that greed seeks, and there is certain honey hued Inner gold that builds and spills from within.

Some will only understand this once they themselves are sufficiently stripped of their hodgepodge of ideas, considering little by little the blandness of ordinary conversations, that are often too careful to avoid the essential subjects, such as the purpose of life, and the path to the other side. Instead some are left to measure just how dull it can be to waste time playing solitaire when going up against the stacked deck of subversion.

Though it is of hope to me that some would come to discover that the most impenetrable landscape, that the most unusual adventures are the ones seen and experienced from within, where beauty blossoms with the ordinary, where each moment can be richly unique, where the splendor of honey-filled joy is found where it’s least expected, if only one knows at which angle to capture the light, which in my opinion, is an angle that bends from within. Maybe they would finally realize that once they reached the Stairs that leads to door of the Inner Kingdom, they would see that everything else is barren poverty.

I have grown exhausted of everyone looking at everything with a negligent set of eyes. In my refusal to participate in the decline, I no longer wanted to be one to trample millenniums of wisdom, or to accept the reign of cynicism and the establishment of barbaric beliefs. Nor would I any longer find comfort in being an accomplice to the establishment of greedy manmade ideologies, all of which spread one way or another with the idea of repressing consciousness, all the while converging on the excessive accumulation of possessions. I had to find myself hidden in the midst of them all. I finally came to understand that with this undertaking, in spite of its discretion, very well could capture a collapse better than anything else. So off to set the foundation of an Inner Church I went, as it is so to speak, I took to the canvas of God.

We’d all be much better off, if we all went to work on ourselves, as much as we go to work just to live.  As I get in the car to drive to work, this river, this valley, it swells subtle with summer and new beginnings. Life was being drawn in the grass with the glowing green of growth. As one last thought runs through my mind, I find it unfortunate that we have been to the moon, we have charted the depths of the ocean and the heart the atom, but we have been standardized with this fear of looking inwards at ourselves because we have grown customary to the belief that this is where all of our contradictions will flow together within the confluence of the inner river.  But it is only if ourselves, would allow the decongestion of our ability to choose the ethical choice between what is right and what is wrong, we would find that free will ain’t so bad after all.

In closing, man is an ever-flowing river of creativity until the very last breath he draws. There are no limits set by this eclectic and electrified universe upon man’s cosmic totality, or his multiplication power. Each man sets his own limitations in accordance with his desires. He may Be a tiny stream which gathers little energy and carries a weak current or he may be roaring river, with the weight of eleven hundred and eleven cubic feet flowing through him at all times. This is true of all the energy borrowed from the universe by all of us. It is there in infinite quantity. The gauge for the kind of flow each of us have within us is set by ourselves.

—BeLove

Creative Clarity

Creativity involves breaking out of established patterns in order to see things in a completely different way.

Creativity is a shape shifter. It is something that is not defined with pattern. It carries with it, its own mentality. One moment it takes upon itself this form, the next that. Creativity involves breaking out of established patterns in order to see things in a completely different way. It is this bedazzling spirit that appears to all of us, yet is hard to identify its existence because there is not one of us that can agree upon what we read or saw as far as ourselves or our eyes are concerned.

Are the wielding of colors upon canvas, just as similar as paint chips and wallpaper? Is this evident of its creative existence? What about a pen versus paper, a rosebush bordered along a garden path? Yes and yes. What about the cooking up of love’s revolution? Why the hell not? Is it touching with delicate love the petals of a rose, or pulling off the Big Sweat of the swelling summer, or tying upon your line a pale morning dun because the trout see them better in the morning sun? Yes, yes, and yes. What about finding ones voice, or rearing a child towards adulthood, or better yet helping raise a nation from its prayerful knees? Hell yes.

Creativity is the tending to love like the orchard it is, finding the words that see fit. And when the cosmic thread finds its fabric, you sew the creative life that has been so graciously given to you. All of the above belong to the creative river of life. Creativity is the celestial river beneath the churning river of life, which flows from in and out of our souls.

Some say the creative life is in the living of ideas, some say it’s by doing, I believe it rests in the simplicity of being you. It is the love of something, having so much love for something—whether it be a band, a collection of words, an image, an idea, let alone be it humanity, that touches us in a way nothing else can. All that can be done to satisfy this craving is to create. It is not a matter of wanting or needing to, it is not a singular act of will; one solely must.  

The creative force flows over the spiritual terrain of our soul looking for the natural hollows, the channels that exist within us. We become basins of belief, tributaries of truth; we are the shallow pools, the serene ponds, and most important the sanctuaries of sanity.  The wild creative force flows into whatever garden bed we build for it, those we are born gifted with and those we have to dig with our own bare hands.  We don’t always have to fill them, but first we must build them.  

In lore, there is an idea that if one prepares a special spiritual place, then the creative force, or source of the soul, will hear it, sense its way to it, and call it home. Whether this force is summoned by the prayer of biblical proportions, “go forward and prepare a place for the soul” or, as in the movie Field Of Dreams in which a farmer hears a voice urging him to build a baseball stadium in the middle of midwestern nowhere USA. “If you build it they will come,” is a way of saying to prepare a place for the longevity of the creative force. It induces the soul to take the imagination to places that life could only dream of.

Once the inner river finds the estuaries and branches in our soul, our creative life fills and empties, rises and falls just like the seasons of a wilderness river. These cycles or patterns are responsible for the different climates of spiritual survival. Certain patterns of paths are the ones we must walk to get through the arid desert of the mind. Things are created; thoughts are fed, then fall back and die away, all in their own right time, over and over again. Creating one thing at any certain point in the river feeds those who come to the river, feeds those far downstream, yet even others in the deepest pools of imagination.

Creating is not a solitary moment. This is the clarity of creativity. This is its power. Whatever is touched by it, whoever hears it, whomever tasted its ingredients with the perfect balance, they sense it, they see it, and they are fed by it. This is why beholding someone else’s creative words, imageS, or ideas fills us up, and inspires us to do our own creative work. A single creative deed has the budding potential to feed this starving world. One single creative act can cause a river’s torrent to carve through miles of stubborn stone.

I have always thought of the following song’s inspiration as being that of creativity, more so necessarily than that of female persuasion. See you all soon. Thanks for stopping by.

—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

Rhythm Of Prayer

The rhythmic effect of prayer will streamline its way into everyday when done consistent.

When I picked up this pen again to entertain this hobby of mine, little did I know how much work God wants to do with our souls.  This is even truer when I started to allow Him into my creative room with the potency of prayer.  I began to realize this as my desire for certain things slowly began to vanish the more I prayed. There has been a few days in between that I sought pleasure and profit, as it is instinct.  It is easy to become intoxicated with the sweetness of the taste for things we write upon here and there.  Yet now, with each passing day something I felt attached to, or desired in some way, slowly makes its exit from the daily agenda of my refreshed mentality.  And I have been able to “let it all go” through prayer.

Prayer is a stained glass in which the light has been refracted through the color of God.

Prayer is the union of our mind and our will with God in an act of pure love bringing us into obscure contact with Him as He really is.  The reason I like to pray is to renew and redevelop my mind from all of the trivial things that wrap around it. All the while letting go of my will.  Prayer then infuses with the soul and then comes the direct intervention with God.  I am beginning to think that the tremors that move through us as we pray is the soul communicating with God.  The soul raises the whole process of the prayer’s progress above the level of our perceived landscape and it is possible that our spirit carries it to Him.  It is then that my capacity for suffering seems to drain from my clogged mind, only to be filled with His infused light and love.  

Potency Of Prayer

Before any of this begins, it is ordinary to labor with the proper preparation of prayer in our own way and with the help of His grace.  It is by adding depth to our knowledge and love of God in all forms of prayer, that our will starts to set itself free from the attachment of our own created circumstance.  

I have found that the best thing a beginner can do at the first inkling of spiritual osmosis is to develop discipline of the mind.  This enables us to concentrate on a spiritual matter and get below the surface of its meaning and incorporate it into our own lives.  By doing this we acquire the agility and freedom of mind, which helps us to find the light and warmth in the love of God.  

People who pretend to think about God only during those fixed periods after their own cruel agenda has left them weak and stranded will never amount to anything in the spiritual life. In fact they will not even think of Him in the moment of prayer.  They instead focus on themselves, which will not get them very far on the path to His Promised Land. 

“When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.

James 4:3

 Get Creative

A few months ago I started to post in the sense of prayer.  This I thought at first was to go against the grain of God.  I must confess though, it has helped me when adjusting myself for extended moments of prayer.  I recommend that all try it.  You don’t need to post it for the world to see, but it helps if you spell out the direction you would like to go, then it can only be used as an instrument of His will. I now believe one hundred percent that writing is a form of prayer.  The rhythmic effect of prayer will streamline its way into everyday when done consistent. It will trickle through the mind, and eventually cascade through your heart and soul.   

Others may suppose that the function of prayer is to show us how to practice going about life with a virtuous understanding and to give us the courage and determination to do something in life.  This is just another fruit to be plucked from the soul of a prayer, but it is just another step along the path.  

The reason why prayer does not serve its true purpose in the lives of so many who try and practice it, is that they do not understand its true purpose.  Some people—and this unfortunate—only pray for their well being, to get what they feel they deserve.  Then there are those that believe by praying they will come to find out more about God.  It is an elementary truth that prayer strengthens our convictions and allows us a deeper foundation of faith and understanding, but this is only the tip of the iceberg.  It is but the threshold of prayer. 

Functionality Of Prayer

As we get closer to the truth we begin to see that prayer is meant to produce in us a greater love for God. Whether or not this concept is satisfactory to you depends entirely what you mean by loving God.  If we think prayer has proved its point when it made us say we love God or feel that we love God, we may still be wrong.  

There will always be a light if you believe.

Prayer is a dual discipline that has a dual function.  First it is supposed to allow us sufficient control over our mind and its memory. This is what enables us to recollect ourselves and withdraw from all exterior challenges—with their activities, thoughts, and concerns of temporal existence.  

Secondly, this is when prayer begins its ascent to Heaven above.  It is the end result of the prayer that we start to become aware of the presence of God, as that vibration radiates from within, the tingling of the spine, this is when you know He is moving through you. And He aims to bring us to a state of constant companionship and loving attention to Him, and our utmost dependence on Him.  

“Trust in the lord with all your heart and lean not into your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your path straight.

Proverbs 3:5

The Take Out

The sole purpose of a prayer is this—to teach us how to work ourselves free from created things our minds have built up and our temporal concerns. Those in which we only find confusion and sorrow. Once we work to free ourselves from these. We will then enter into a conscious and loving contact with God in which we dispose ourselves from our wants and focus on our need for Him. This is done by praising Him every step of the way with the honor and love which He has now given to us through joy. Prayer is a dark path, in which nothing but faith can be heard in the silent, joyful light of God’s will.

The success of prayer will not be measured by the great resolutions we make, or the emotions felt in the exterior senses.  We have only prayed well, when we have come, to some extent, to realize God.  Yet even that is not quite the thing either.  

After all, anyone who has tried it is aware that the closer you get to God, the less question there can be of His will. The less there can be of realizing Him or anything about Him, the more we realize the path we are to walk is the one that infuses us with His light and His love.

-BeLove

Creating Liberty

Creativity is a wild mind with a wandering eye that carries the torch of the soul.

What I want to do is to write well.  This feeling goes back to my early eccentric sense of existence—sunk in the glassy gravities of life—fumbling around for thrilling desperations of wisdom and knowledge.  I have long been keen and aware of painted veils, of God, of domes with stained glass tinting the white radiance of eternity, quivering in the intense delight of divinity and so on.  I have carried quite the nutty charm of all things since I was boy frolicking through the fields of mind-expanding growth, just on the other side of the past underneath the Cosmos of my adolescence.

The Forest Of My Youth.

Why I Write

It was underneath the stars of a sweat-filled southern summer night, many moons ago that creativity first started to drip through my soul.  The thoughts I thought were worth putting on paper.  Now here we are twenty some odd years later, going through the same motions, on a much larger scale rather than just some dusty old notebook.  Which by the way I still have.  This is why I write, well to write well, and just as well, it does help to give me a sense of liberty in a time when liberty is limping on its last leg.

If a writer is so guarded that he never writes anything that cannot be criticized, he will never write anything that can be read.  If you want to help other people you have got to make up your mind to write things that some men will condemn.  

If you write for God you will reach many men and bring them joy. If you write for men—you may make a pretty penny, you may give someone a hint of joy, and you may make a bit of an uproar in the world, if only for a little while.  If you write for yourself you can read what you yourself have written and after five agonizing minutes you may become so disgusted that you wish your creative side dead.

A Touch Of Creativity

Creativity has this marvelous touch that feels of flattery and laughs with liberty, all the while coalesced with subtle hints of courage.  As of recently, my mind has come to find that it is only truly fed with joy, when thinking about and creating all things eternal and infinite.  This is why I am satisfied to sit here thinking all day long about God, creativity, and the purity of love. And why I have decided to leave my own hell by the wayside of time.

The awakening of creative energy is inner liberation from pain and is accompanied by a sense of freedom. Creativity is the way of liberty. Creativity is a way out of your own hell.  Liberty cannot result in inner emptiness—it is not merely liberty from something but it is also liberty for the sake of something. And this “for the sake of something” is creativity in its purest form.

Creativity is one of the highest forms of consciousness, and at the same time it spills from the fountain of eternal youth.  Creativity is the youth of the soul and its power is bound up with the soul’s virginity. 

A Gift From & For God   

Creativity cannot be aimless and objectless.  It is an ascent and therefore supposes loftiness, which means creativity rises from the world to God.  It does not move along a flat surface in endless time but ascends with eternity. Every creative act of ours is in relation to other people—an act of love, of pity, of helping others to heal, of peacemaking. Not only does it have a future but also it is eternal.

The greatest secret of existence is the satisfaction that is not felt by those who make demands and sacrifices, but by those who give and make sacrifices in the realm of creativity. In those people alone the energy of delight and life does not fail, and this is the precise meaning of creativity. 

This is where I failed recently, my cockiness got the best of my creativity and I almost flushed everything I had built down the toilet of doubt.  I do consider myself lucky that after praying, God wouldn’t allow me to treat myself with such atrocities that spawned from the slavery of my own mind. I’m not sure why I felt the need to ruin it all, but I also haven’t the time to recollect it all.  In short, it could be chalked up to an inner dividedness.  I did abandon myself to my own devices instead of leaving things up to God.   

Liberty Of Love

Creativity is meant to push forward, so let us move north towards positivity.  The positive mystery of life is to be found in love, in sacrificing, giving, and creating love.  All creativity is love and all love is creative.  If you want to receive, then give.  If you want to obtain satisfaction, do not seek validation, never think of it again and forget the word altogether.  If you want your words to acquire the potency to make a difference in the world, manifest those words, and pass them on to others.

We are all skeptic with this idea that love is an emotion only felt between two people.  But love is a universal energy, a catching force handed down from the grace of God’s gift to us all, that being creativity. To be grateful, to hope, to believe, to be forgiving and to have faith in the path that lay ahead, is to accept God’s love and carry it in your soul, whole-heartedly and creatively.  This is the liberty of love in its purest form within life and the everlasting pursuit of happiness.  And we see this in the following scripture. 

“Am I not free to do what I please”

Matthew 20:15

Are these not Christ’s words? It seems that they, too, contain the secret of all joy, because there is no joy without liberty and these words contain the truth that make us free to love unconditionally and creatively.  To accept them for what they justly mean is to enter into the infinite liberty of God. To acknowledge these words is to love them and live by them.  To truly accept them is to love One and to love all.

The Creative Spirit 

Where the Spirit of God is, there is liberty.  Where there is liberty, there is the Spirit of God and grace.  Grace acts upon liberty and cannot act upon anything else. The enslaved mind cannot receive grace and grace will not affect it.  The enslaved mind will recognize liberty but only for the sake of urging it into the obedience of manmade law, and not in any way staying obedient to the law of His cosmic dance.

Liberty, then, is a talent given to us by God and not by man.  Liberty is an instrument of creativity to work with.  It is the tool with which we build our own lives with His freedom, and our own happiness.  Our true liberty is something that must never be sacrificed, for if we sacrifice it we renounce God himself.  As much as I would like to attack the current state of society on certain things pertaining to liberal beliefs I have chosen not to succumb to that impulse because the message of this post speaks loud and clear.

It is only the false spontaneity of impulse, the pseudo liberty of sin that is to be sacrificed.  Our true liberty must be defended with life itself for it is the most precious element in our being.  It is through liberty that God created us, constituted in His divine image of creation.

The truth is plain to see if you look with open eyes.

We may say with certainty that creativity is life-in-itself, and so is love, as is the contemplation of God and the spiritual world.  Creativity is a wild mind with a wandering eye that carries the torch of the soul.

In the end love laughs at all that is temporal through creativity, because pure love is the doorstep to eternity, and he who loves without condition is knocking on the door that leads to God and His eternal promise, and before anything can happen to him, God will have already drawn him over the sill to Heaven and closed the door behind him and he won’t bother to worry about the wilderness burning on the other side of himself because he knows nothing but love.

—BeLove

Written Confession

If I am to be a writer or a poet, I must always put on paper what I have become.

It may sound simple, but it is no easy task.

Hello.  First, let me thank you for stopping by.  Now where were we?  

I wrote the last post because I wanted to prove that we all have doubt.  Doubt in ourselves, doubt in God from time to time.  Hell, I have doubted God and myself most of my life. This doubt is similar to smoke, it will cloud your judgment of yourself, cloud your thoughts, cloud God’s purpose and His will for you.  

This smoke-filled doubt seems to be the absence of God.  Yet, God is still very much around.  He has just chosen to seem absent. But through the fog there is always a light and it burns within you, and it is God. You see he isn’t absent; those clouded thoughts are just the absence of faith.  I will now share with you why I believe this to be true.

Speak The Truth

My last post almost didn’t happen.  I was close to throwing in the towel when it came to writing again.  I almost put the pen down for good this time.  I was in a bad spot over the past week and a half.  It was all self-imposed from my obtrusive ego.  My head had swollen past the point of no return.  I wanted to quit writing out of pure defiance

Keep going.

The renewal date for this blog was coming up and I said to myself, just let it all go, just let it collapse like everything else in your life.  Sit back and “maybe” write the book and forget about the message while allowing mayhem to take the checkered flag from motivation.  My heart and soul were both vitally exhausted from moving constant in opposite directions of each other trying like hell to keep up with my mind.  

Don’t Doubt

And you know why? Because I doubted everything, and when I chose to do that I doubted Him.  I didn’t pray deeply for a business week worth of days, I didn’t get lost in the gardens of scripture for an extended duration.  I walked away towards the darkness of insolence from the path He had laid with the light of deliverance.  My soul had succumbed to the selfishness of pride.  

So come Monday morning, my day off, I awoke and I made it a point to speak loud and clear to the emptiness around me.  I spoke at length with Him about my dependence of Him, I begged for His mercy. And as I said before, when talking to myself, I have come to find that I am lot happier rather than listening to myself. 

So the day went it’s way and things were happy.  The kid and I played and created to his heart’s delight.  I was asked a million and one questions.  That plus one, was the best one yet.  “So Dad, did you know that God made me?” My soul stood silent and looked above and through the flesh, we winked and then I looked to him and all I could do was smile and reply, “Yes.”  

A creative mind is of a thriving kind.  All his idea. 

The following morning in the same empty room, I repeated my need for Him and His mercy, but this time I promised to start seeing the grace in all things as opposed to their shortcomings. The reason because spawned from my child’s question.  

Feeling Grace

This is something that we all do, instead of seeing the grace in something we look for the fault.  For instance, you have a child who has asked you the most mind-numbing but silly questions about farts and chickens all morning but then by the grace of God and who he really is, He reels you in to a place you have never been, a peace you’ve never felt.  That’s not just seeing, but feeling the grace of Him in all things.  

That night after the kid had gone to his mother’s house.  I was still going to quit, so I echoed my merciful dependence for Him, but this time I asked Him to give me the strength to see His will through, to allow me to see the grace of my surroundings.  I then picked up the bible and turned to Job.  Before I knew it the pen had found its way back into my hand. The words were written as follows the scripture.

He speaks in dreams, in visions of the night, when deep sleep falls on people as they lie in their beds.  

Job 33 : 15

And again the words they spilled from my flooded soul.  

Where I call home.


Allow God To Move Through You

These shades of mountain they glow beneath Your crescent moon, these stars they sprinkle my sight with a grace that shimmers of You.  And here You are moving through me with Your capricious wind, showing me what I should do.  Winter is in full force, and Your skies have been so grey, but every evening the inversion burns off and there You are so bright and beautiful.  This darkness and its significant other, that our flesh calls faith, is something we should forever see the light in.  So in the darkness of my doubt, let’s give them something to talk about.

Sometimes I feel that I should quit writing altogether, as some sort of gesture poised defiant.  In any case, I hope to stop thinking so much, because it has become impossible for me to stop writing altogether.  There is no way I can stop now, these words they help to heal, and it is possible that it is not only me.  Perhaps I will I write until death, and maybe even longer. Maybe I’ll write while in purgatory, except that I hope You and I can arrange some miraculous last inning heroics over my sins, and we shall leave purgatory in its own dugout, while you and I celebrate beneath fountains of champagne.  

And it seems to me that writing is not an obstacle in front of spiritual perfection in my own life, but sometimes it seems to have become conditional on which my perfection depends. Such is the mind of a poet.  If I am to be a writer or a poet, I must always put on paper what I have become. It may sound simple, but it is no easy task.  

To be a good person, and to remain myself, and to write about it:  to put myself down on paper, and now upon the world wide web, in such a situation, with simplicity and integrity, masking nothing, confusing no issue: this is difficult, because I am at times mixed up with illusion and attachment.  These too must be written, but how?  Without exaggeration, repetition, and useless emphasis.  That’s how.  No need for howling through the ears of anyone but You, who will always see the depth of my foolishness.  To be frank without boring You, it is kind of a crucifixion.  It requires so much honesty that is beyond my nature.  So let it be said, it must come from You.

Amen. 

The results of God moving through us are more or less a transparent holiness through the lens of Him. Creativity is the very act of God moving through man.  By living, praying and writing in the light of God, I have lost myself entirely by becoming public domain via Him.  

If you take anything away from this post, let it be as follows.  

We are all lost the majority of our lives, most of us have evolved to ignore our purpose and have become akin to just existing.  I was one of those people and I almost was again.  But believe me, we are here for the purpose of making the world a better place, via love, faith, and most of all hope through God.  

Within each and every one of us is a place called Calvary and the mind within it, has the ability to be and believe in whatever it wants to.  But the resource of abundant life has masked itself as debt and suffering, when true wealth has forever been funded by faith in God. 

This is why creativity is the most important natural resource that God has ever given us.  

And then they were whole—welcome back soul. 

-BeLove